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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096397">Opposite</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricecake/pseuds/Elveatas'>Elveatas (Ricecake)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Knight Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Politics, Prophecy, Slow Burn, Undercover</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:54:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,319</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricecake/pseuds/Elveatas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Queen Ygraine died, a grief-stricken King Uther struck out at magic and started the genocide known as the Great Purge. The sorcerers who could, escaped across the borders to Camelot’s neighbouring countries where they formed the organisation known as the Opposition, while those who stayed founded the Resistance. Throughout the years, both organisations have succeeded in infiltrating almost every one of Camelot’s government agencies, including the Knights of Camelot – Uther’s elite corps. </p><p>Twenty years after the Purge, Princess Morgana’s magic secretly surfaces and the Opposition sends Merlin to Camelot to teach her how to control it. When the Resistance tries to assassinate Crown Prince Arthur, Merlin saves his life, and as a reward, finds himself a Squire of Camelot. Now he must navigate a gruelling training regimen, run-ins with the Resistance, royal visitors from other countries, and still find the time to teach Morgana magic while staying undercover until the time is right.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leon/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Eyes Burning Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic was started all the way back in 2014, though at that point it wasn't much. Then in 2015, I decided to enter ACBB with this fic, and it grew in size to the point where there was no way I was gonna make the deadline. Then life happened, and here we are, way too many years later, and it's still not done. But it's going to be because I am nothing if not stubborn!!</p><p>What's super funny about this fic is that a lot of the dystopian things mentioned - like being constantly under surveillance no matter where you go - has become a real thing in some countries in the real world. I guess life really does imitate art. Or maybe I was just able to predict where technology was headed. This is, after all, sort of inspired by <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0405094/releaseinfo?ref_=tt_dt_dt#akas">Das Leben der Anderes/The Lives of Others</a> and world history in general.</p><p>A huuuuuge thank you to everyone who's cheered me on throughout the years, and most importantly to my lovely beta <a href="http://hart-d.livejournal.com/">hart_d</a> who's literally been with me since my first written fic in the Merlin fandom.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Morgana wasn’t sure what exactly it was that woke her up. It might have been the nightmare, horrible as it was - a recurring one that always had her trembling in fear, lungs heaving for breath while she tried to convince herself it wasn’t a vision, and if it was, that nothing about the future was ever certain. Or perhaps it was the intense heat from the tall flames standing up from the lamppost near her bed, or the shrill, ear-splitting sound of the fire alarm blaring its warning tunes out in her bedroom and in the hallway. Possibly in the entire castle.</p><p>For one desperate moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, she couldn’t remember where she was; the nightmare was still too real in her mind to properly detect the imminent danger she was in. The flames illuminating the otherwise dark room in a stark orange seemed almost unreal for just the longest of seconds, but then the matching burning in her eyes registered, and instinct took over.</p><p>She scrambled back against the headboard, clutching her sheets to her chest as if they could give her any protection, and curled her legs up against her body to get as far away from the threat as possible. Dimly, in the back of her head, there was a tiny voice that reminded her of the years and years of relentless training and crisis management she’d been put through. Still, she found herself petrified by the power surging through her, fuelled by her fear and the high-pitched yet strangely deep sound of the alarm that went straight into her bloodstream, along with the realization that the more she stared at them, the more the flames seemed to gain in intensity, reaching towards the ceiling like thousands of tiny arms trying to find purchase. She didn’t need to look in the mirror to know her eyes were glowing a tell-tale gold; she could feel it as surely as she could feel the magic right beneath her skin.</p><p>“Morgana!”</p><p>The shout of her name drew her attention to the doorway where her brother had just burst through. He wasn’t even on duty and still he’d raced to her rooms before the guards could arrive, wearing only a pair of boxers and an old, worn t-shirt, and a look that could almost be mistaken for one of panic. </p><p>He ran to the bed where she was still clutching her sheets desperately.</p><p>“What are you doing?” he yelled. “Move!” Grasping the sheets, he pulled them from her grip and turned to the flames to try to strangle the fire with them, as Morgana should have done instead of trembling in frozen fear.</p><p>Now exposed to the air, Morgana’s body felt wet with cold sweat that stuck to her like a second layer of uncomfortable skin, and her nervous system was sending tremors out through her body, but whether that was from the cold, or the fear, or the unfamiliar magical power burning itself off now that the flames were being fought, she couldn’t say. Closing her eyes, she tried to get her frantic breathing under control, to use some of the exercises Gaius had taught her for when she woke up from a nightmare or a vision. The tremors would cease after that, Gaius had said. Steady breathing was the key to everything.</p><p>So she breathed. Inhaled slowly, held her breath and counted the seconds, exhaled, slow and long until there was no more air in her lungs. Repeated. It was harder than usual due to the fire alarm still going strong, but little by little, some of the tension left her.</p><p>Her ears picked up a scramble close to the door, which would mean the guards had finally appeared, and the next thing she knew, gentle hands took hold of her face and lifted it up to meet familiar brown eyes.</p><p>“It’s okay, Morgana,” Gwen said. “It’s okay. They’re fighting the fire now.” She rubbed gentle circles into her ice cold skin, warming up her cheeks. “It’s okay now.”</p><p>“Gwen,” Morgana breathed and knew that she was safe. It wasn’t exactly the words as much as it was the soothing voice and the kind face of someone who knew and protected her secret that calmed her the final step down. Gwen was there and everything was going to be okay. The fire hadn’t spread, and the nightmare, which she’d had too many times for it to be anything but a vision, was not taking place in her bedroom. She wasn’t going to be exposed.</p><p>At least not yet.</p><p>Guards were swarming her rooms when she looked up. Arthur was standing in the midst of it, barking orders right and left, his authority unquestionable although he was only in his nightclothes, unlike Gwen, who had been on duty and was dressed in full knight’s uniform. A tinge of something bittersweet and proud surged through her at the sight of her beloved, magnificent brother. She supposed she could have been angry that Arthur was to inherit the throne despite being the youngest, but there could be no doubts as to whom was the better leader, more suited for ruling the kingdom. And it wasn’t her. </p><p>She was destined for another greatness anyway.</p><p>The fire had already been put out, probably by Arthur’s herculean effort, and Morgana could see one of the guards standing with a fire extinguisher, giving the lamp and the surrounding area an extra spray to strangle any possible embers. Gwen coaxed her out of the bed to stand gingerly on her own bare feet, still fighting the tremors of her body, and Arthur was by her side in mere moments, hands cautiously holding on to her forearms as if she might break should he apply a bit more pressure.</p><p>“I’m fine, Arthur,” she said weakly, knowing she looked anything but.</p><p>“So you say,” he retorted with gentle sarcasm and a hint of a hesitant smile on his lips. “Don’t play strong now, Morgana.”</p><p>She huffed out a laugh. “I’m not. I really am fine.”</p><p>He arched an eyebrow that showed his disbelief clearly. Then he turned to Gwen. “Dame Guinevere, please escort my sister to the infirmary. There’s no reason for her to go outside with the others. Especially in this state.”</p><p>“Yes, Your Highness,” Gwen said, fighting a smile.</p><p>“And inform me if there’s anything serious. Otherwise, I suggest she spend the night in one of Gaius’ beds.” He inclined his head towards the burned-out lamp. “I doubt she’ll be able to get much sleep here. At least not until the investigation is over, and that might take a few days.”</p><p>“I’m still here,” Morgana felt the need to chide. “Don’t talk as if I’m not.”</p><p>“So you are.” Arthur gave Gwen a pointed look. “Dame Guinevere.”</p><p>“We’ll be on our way, sire.”</p><p>With a reassuring arm around Morgana’s shoulders, Gwen led her out of her rooms, out into the hallway, and through the corridors, where they passed dignitaries and visiting diplomats exiting their rooms. Protocol dictated that everyone was to gather outside when the fire alarm sounded in case of evacuation, but they would probably be sent back once they’d been accounted for and word had gotten out that only Morgana’s lamp had been on fire. Hopefully they’d shut off the fire alarm too.</p><p>Gaius was already changed and waiting in his scrubs when they reached the infirmary, clearly having been alerted to their arrival. He cast one glance at Morgana, guided her towards the bed he usually used to examine his patients, and sat her down. Gwen followed, kneeling beside her, and moved her grip to Morgana’s hands, while Gaius went to his work table to retrieve his medical scanner.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” Gwen asked. “You weren’t burned, were you?”</p><p>“I’m fine. Physically,” Morgana said and straightened her back when Gaius came back with the scanner. “At least I think so.”</p><p>“We will know shortly,” Gaius said and let the red light from the scanner glide over Morgana’s body and back again. He inspected the screen attached to it, a slight frown furrowing his brows. “There are no burns. No smoke in your lungs either, but your pulse is still going a bit too fast, and your adrenaline level is heightened, though that is to be expected from such a scare. All in all, I think you just need a cup of tea and a good night’s sleep, and then you’ll be back on top.”</p><p>“I’ll make the tea,” Gwen said and stood back up, letting go of Morgana’s hands with a slight squeeze and a smile. “And I’ll report back to His Highness and His Majesty before your father can storm in here and launch himself crying at your feet.”</p><p>Despite everything, Morgana couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. Her father was the last person she wanted to see right now, with Arthur coming in as a strong second. She wouldn’t be able to bear the look of horror and betrayal in their eyes if they knew she’d inherited her mother’s gifts. Gifts she wasn’t even supposed to know about, for during the Great Purge her mother and stepfather Gorlois had conveniently left the country to go overseas to seek a new life together without Morgana. At least that was the story her father had told her when she was too young to understand what exile meant. Morgause, her older sister whom she wasn’t supposed to know about either, had explained it to her much later.</p><p>Gaius went to put back the medical scanner and to retrieve a blanket for Morgana, while Gwen was puttering about in the small kitchenette which mostly held coffee, tea, and snacks Gaius used to give her when she was little and didn’t want to be subjected to scans. While the tea was brewing, Gwen called up Arthur on her pocketcom as promised and told him of Gaius’ diagnosis. After finishing the conversation with a “Yes, sire, I’ll take care of her,” she hung up and went back to prepare Morgana’s tea. Despite not being a servant, she’d prepared it enough times to know to put in a little bit of milk and some sweetener, before stirring it with a spoon and handing it to Morgana.</p><p>Morgana smiled gratefully, taking hold of the steaming cup with both hands, careful to not let the blanket Gaius had given her fall from her shoulders. The tea would still be too hot to drink, but she let the heat seep out through the china, warm up her cold fingers, and calm her down a little more.</p><p>“Thank you, Gwen,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.”</p><p>Gwen’s smile was soft and sweet as she replied. “You’re welcome. Now you just concentrate on drinking your tea and getting some sleep once the fire alarm is off. I just talked to Arthur and he says it was probably just a defect in the lamp. Nothing serious. ”</p><p>Her words were a sharp reminder that it was the exact opposite. It was dead serious, in fact. The kind of serious that would get Morgana a front row seat to the executional square, were she not the king’s daughter. And even then, she wasn’t sure her father wouldn’t condemn her to death should he find out. And he would, she knew. Find out. She’d seen it too many times in her nightmare visions to pretend it wouldn’t happen at some point, even if the way often changed from dream to dream. Her sister had once told her there were many futures, many different ways in which that which was certain could happen. People’s actions changed the future all the time, but it was impossible to know the exact choice which would set the future on a different course. The vision Morgana had had before she was woken up by the flames had been of her reveal, of her father discovering her magic because she couldn’t control it. A very likely future in light of recent events.</p><p>The fire alarm went out, leaving the infirmary in a blissful, gratifying silence that eliminated the last of her remaining panic. She chewed at her lip, clutching the warm cup in her hands. She couldn’t know if what she was about to do would change anything, but she was among allies; it certainly couldn’t change things for the worse. </p><p>Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she looked at Gaius, who had sat down in front of his desk to tap at his computer, then at Gwen, who was fiddling away with her pocket com, and said, “It was me.”</p><p>“Pardon, your highness?” Gaius said and glanced at her over the top of his reading glasses. “What was you?”</p><p>Gwen pocketed her com, tilting her head slightly as if trying to figure out what Morgana meant, but she didn’t say anything, so Morgana clarified, “I set fire to the lamp. It wasn’t a defect. I did it. With magic.”</p><p>Gwen and Gaius exchanged looks for a short second before Gaius was out of his chair faster than his old limbs should have allowed him, and Gwen was back to kneel in front of Morgana, her brows furrowed in worry.</p><p>“Are you sure?” Gwen asked, searching Morgana’s face for an answer, or perhaps for a trace of magic. “I didn’t see any gold in your eyes when I came in.”</p><p>“I’m sure,” Morgana said. “I could feel the magic running through me from somewhere deep inside and up to right beneath my skin. Then out of my body, fuelling the fire. And I could feel it burning in my eyes.”</p><p>“That does indeed sound like it,” Gaius said. “It has been a long time since the last time I used it, but it’s a feeling you never forget. And we knew it would only be a matter of time before your magic would surface.” He sounded tired, resigned. “I had hoped we would have more time, but I suppose we were lucky it even waited this many years before developing beyond your visions.”</p><p>“So what do we do now?” Morgana took a sip of her tea to see if it had cooled to drinkable levels. It had, though just barely.</p><p>Gaius was back to fiddling with the medical scanner. “I’ll check the scans again, and remove evidence of the excess energy if there’s any to be found, though I doubt it. It rarely shows up on scans this long after usage. In the meantime, we must enforce the theory that it was a defect in the lamp.” He glanced at Gwen who nodded in response.</p><p>“I’ll make sure they find a defect,” she said resolutely, standing up again. “It won’t be hard when they’re already working with that theory.”</p><p>“But what if I lose control again?” Morgana said, unable to help the high pitch that ended her sentence. Her heart rate was probably going up again, too. “I…” she hesitated. Tried a sip of the tea to calm down a bit before she continued. “I dreamt that I was found out because I lost control. I know the future is not always certain, but what if that really happens?”</p><p>Gwen and Gaius were back to exchanging telling glances.</p><p>“Ideally, I would teach you how to control it,” Gaius said, for once sounding like the old man he was, “but it has been so long, I doubt I could be of much use. I may be able to give you a few exercises like the breathing techniques I’ve already taught you, but newly surfaced magic is often wild and strong. I’m afraid my magic won’t be strong enough to handle it.” He paused, as if hesitant to continue. “Alternatively, we could contact the Resistance. I’m sure there are more than a few magic users among them who could teach you. But I must admit I am reluctant to involve them in such delicate matters. We don’t know if their secrecy spells are as strong as ours, and it could prove fatal should your potential teacher get caught. But what other options do we have?”</p><p>“Personally,” Gwen offered, “I would prefer it if we could get you across the border to Essetir.”</p><p>Morgana almost snorted into her tea. “I doubt leaving is going to solve <i>anything</i>. My father would hunt me down because he’d believe I’d been kidnapped, just like that time I got lost in the mall. And when he finds me in Essetir, in Cenred’s court?  I can’t even begin to predict the consequences.” She took a large gulp of her tea before continuing. “And what about Arthur? I can’t just leave him alone.”</p><p>Gwen smiled, soft and fond and sweet. “I didn’t say that you should. I said I would prefer you to go — for your own safety — but I am not such a hypocrite to expect you to leave because it’s too dangerous.”</p><p>Morgana couldn’t help but smile back at that. Gwen’s brother, Elyan, often protested it was too dangerous for his sister to stay behind enemy lines, but Gwen plainly refused to leave, citing how important her work was.</p><p>Gaius sighed heavily, sitting down in his desk chair as if he had suddenly doubled his own weight. “I suppose we must consider our options carefully before deciding on a course of action. Choosing wrong could be fatal.”</p><p>“I will notify Elyan,” Gwen said, pulling out her pocketcom to begin the heavy security procedures before she could contact her brother. “He’ll bring it up to the rest of the Opposition leaders. They’ll know what to do.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-ll-</p>
</div>Elyan started up his tablet, absentmindedly lifting his steaming cup of coffee up to his lips to take a sip, as he began the security procedure that was put in place to prevent spies from getting a hold on vital information. The cup had barely reached his mouth when a message from Gwen popped up, and he had to put it down, untouched, and read the message twice before the words registered properly. Then he read it again, just to be sure, and wondered why his sister hadn’t marked it as ‘urgent’ so he’d be alerted sooner, regardless of the time.<p>“Morgana set fire to her room last night,” he announced to his breakfast companions, who abruptly dropped the usual morning chatter and turned their surprised gazes to him. He even drew the attention of the staff puttering about the dining room to serve breakfast to the king of Essetir and his guests. “With magic,” he clarified after a few seconds of stunned silence, and proceeded to relay Gwen’s report in detail.</p><p>Nimueh, high priestess of the old religion and one of the leaders of the Opposition alongside Elyan, was the first to break the ensuing silence, dabbing her mouth with a napkin before speaking. “I suppose we knew this day would come. It is lucky that nothing worse happened, and that it was a lamp, thus easily explainable. I dare not think of what Uther would have done otherwise. Whether he’d believe his beloved daughter capable of magic, or simply blame it on an unfortunate staff member.”</p><p>“Personally, I think he’d launch another witch hunt where everyone who has as much as looked at the alleged culprit would face execution,” Elyan said bitterly, a grim smile on his face. “He does that kind of thing.” He didn’t say more, as his words spoke for themselves. After all, there was no one in the Opposition who didn’t know why he and his sister had become part of the organisation.</p><p>Cenred, king of Essetir and their host, chuckled without humour, buttering up a piece of toast. “Yes, our dear Uther would certainly react that way. Thank the goddesses for modern technology, huh?”</p><p>“What a comfort,” Emrys, Nimueh’s ward, said with a snort from his seat beside her. “But what do we do now?”</p><p>“Well,” Elyan said, contemplating, scrolling through Gwen’s message again. “We can’t pull her out.”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Cenred said, putting down his toast and stabbing the knife in the butter. “I am not sacrificing soldiers on a pointless war with Camelot. He barely tolerates your presence in my court as it is. Hell, he only allows it because he knows the other kingdoms of Albion will sanction him more heavily than they do today if he initiates military aggression. But if we ‘kidnap’ Morgana,” Cenred continued, “we’d suddenly be the bad guys. He’d have a legal reason to attack, and they wouldn’t stop him.”</p><p>“You are, of course, right,” Nimueh agreed, sombre. “We can’t afford all-out war. Even with our allies, the cost on both sides would be too great. Our previous plans of a coup at the right time will have to continue regardless. But that time is not now. Arthur is still too firmly in Uther’s grasp to fulfil Vivienne’s prophecy.”</p><p>“That still doesn’t provide us with an answer as to what we do about Morgana,” Morgause, the third leader of the Opposition, said. She was the one who’d managed to secure them a base at Cenred’s castle back in the day. “Magic runs strong in our family’s blood and Morgana’s powers are going to grow considerably now they have surfaced.”</p><p>“While her eventual exposure is unavoidable, it could potentially prove fatal if it happens before Arthur’s won over, indeed,” Nimueh said, tapping her chin, presumably in deep thought. “She must learn to control it then.”</p><p>“And how do we do that?” Morgause asked, golden eyebrow arching in a sneer. “I don’t exactly trust the Resistance.”</p><p>She was met with huffs of contained amusement from Elyan, Cenred, and Emrys. No, they didn’t trust the Resistance. While their goal of dethroning Uther was similar, their methods were quite different. Occasionally, they worked together on a project, but distrust between the two groups was a wall not easily breached.</p><p>Nimueh’s lips curled into a smile that couldn’t mean good things. “There’s no need to involve the Resistance, no. Instead I think it’s time for the two halves of Vivienne’s prophecy to meet each other.” She turned in her chair to look at her ward, throwing one arm over the backrest while the other rested on the table, a picture of carefully presented openness. “What do you say, Emrys?”</p><p>Emrys blinked, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. “You want me to go to Camelot?”</p><p>“Sooner or later you will have to meet Arthur,” Nimueh stated. “It might as well be sooner. Your meeting may be able to turn his beliefs to our advantage, but even if it doesn’t, Morgana desperately needs a teacher who’ll be able to help her control the immense power of a high priestess to-be. Ideally, a high priest or a high priestess should teach her, but we will have to wait with the religious rites until Uther’s dead. You’re the next best thing, stronger even.” It was said with the sort of fondness that could only come from immense pride, punctuated by the pleased smile she wore. “Even if caught, I have no doubts you’d be able to make a spectacular escape.”</p><p>Elyan nodded thoughtfully. “Your blood relation to Gaius could be a way in,” he said. “Uther’s trust in Gaius is hard-earned, but to our advantage. And Uther has a weak spot for family. He wouldn’t question it if Gaius’ great nephew, his only blood relation in Albion, came to live with him at the castle. It would give you a perfect reason to be close to Morgana. Make friends with Gwen and you’ll automatically be considered a friend of Morgana to outsiders. And if Cenred’s men have done their job, your father will not show up in your file,” he finished, throwing a pointed glance towards their host.</p><p>Cenred scoffed, crossing his arms. “Balinor was never even written in. He didn’t exactly see eye to eye with my father. The father of Hunith’s child is marked as unknown.”</p><p>“Excellent,” Nimueh said, turning back to Emrys with an expectant smile. “Then, if you’re willing, we’ll send you to Camelot.”</p><p>“Well…uhm.” Emrys chewed on the inside of his cheek. Elyan couldn’t know what he was thinking, but he did seem slightly uncertain. He glanced around the room, seemingly searching for an answer. First his eyes fell on Cenred, then on Elyan, who nodded slightly to show his support. At last his gaze fell on Morgause, who was practically staring him down. Pleading, perhaps, would be a better word, except Morgause didn’t plead. </p><p>Emrys turned back to Nimueh, shrugging. “I suppose I could do it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Along Came a Traveler</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Although Essetir and Camelot had an uneasy peace, restricted travel was permitted between the two countries. According to the official story of Uther’s propaganda machine, a special permit to enter and leave Camelot had to be obtained to ensure the protection of its citizens. In truth it was to prevent the people from fleeing the extensive surveillance and tight restrictions to seek better options elsewhere. When Uther’s wife had died and the Great Purge begun, people had fled by the thousands to Camelot’s neighbouring countries, and to prevent any further escapes, the border around Camelot had been fortified with kilometres upon kilometres of barbed wire, several metres of no-man’s-land filled with mines and traps, and extra, heavily armed patrols. Plus, of course, the permits. With Gaius’ help, Merlin had obtained his easily, and was granted a visa to stay in the country for as long as he desired, unlike the usual holiday permits given to most.</p><p>Since crossing the border into Camelot by foot or in private cars was prohibited for everyone not a diplomat or an equally important person, a bus company with headquarters in Camelot’s capital had specialised in transporting its passengers between countries. They double-checked the papers and files of their customers before a ticket could be bought in order to stay in the good graces of Camelot’s government, and had thus gained a near-monopoly in travel to and from the closed country. Which was a shame, Merlin thought, as he boarded the old bus and took in the battered seats where the upholstery was frayed and coming off at several places to give view to the padding underneath, which seemed to be in an equal state of decay. A little competition to heighten the quality wouldn’t have been misplaced. Or maybe it was just him who’d grown too used to living in Cenred’s court where only the best of the best was acceptable.</p><p>The air inside the bus was heavy with sweat and not even the barely functioning aircon and the open windows could quell Merlin’s desperate wish to be anywhere else. Though he was thankful for the window seat he’d managed to secure, which allowed him to feel the wind in his face if he stretched his neck just a little, and to lean against the corner of the seat to subtly get as far away from the old man sitting beside him as possible. He’d clearly gone a while without a shower. And a toothbrush. Unfortunately, the man didn’t seem to have gotten the hint and spent at least half of the trip to the border telling Merlin everything about his life and his family living in Camelot, including pointless anecdotes that would probably have been funny if Merlin had understood the context. Still, Merlin had spent the better part of his life in court and knew everything about appearing incredibly interested despite the boring nature of the conversation, and carefully guided it away from his own personal life when asked.</p><p>After a few incredibly boring hours where Merlin was glad of his habit of dressing in comfortable clothes outside court — when the old man had finally fallen asleep and left Merlin to eat his packed lunch — they finally reached the border checkpoint. Black-clad border guards armed with machine guns stood ready to guide the passengers out. They were all from Camelot, as Cenred saw no need to enforce control. Uther did it so well for him, he’d told Merlin once, and it was a simple way to save Essetir some easy money. Besides, the only people who crossed the border illegally were smugglers who made a fortune selling forbidden goods on Camelot’s black market and who usually paid a few coins to Cenred’s table to escape prosecution. Sometimes they smuggled refugees for the Opposition, too, sometimes the Resistance.</p><p>As the bus was guided into a car park by one of the border guards, people started fiddling with their bags to find their wallets and the required papers to have ready for the security check. Afterwards, there would be a break for the driver to get his obligatory resting period, and for the passengers to use the bathroom and empty their pockets in the cafeteria and the little gift shop that had been built right on the border, true to the nature of corporate greed. </p><p>Since a nice kitchen lady had packed a delicious lunch for Merlin, he wouldn’t be paying for any over-priced sandwiches, but the restrooms were definitely calling to him. Before he could get out, however, he had to sit and wait patiently for the old man to get up and get his bag from the overhead storage room. And before the old man could move out of the way, he in turn had to wait for other passengers to finish getting their papers and exit the bus. He smiled down at Merlin apologetically and rolled his eyes in the direction of the lady in front of him frantically trying to get her five kids to behave.</p><p>Then he froze, startled, turning his head to the front of the bus. Other passengers seemed to have caught sight of the same thing as the old man and were staring towards the front, too. Merlin stretched his neck to see what was happening, as did the other passengers who had yet to exit their seats, and in just a few seconds the bus went completely quiet.</p><p>Two men stood by the front. One was the black-clad border guard who’d entered the bus as soon as it had been parked, and the other bore the red uniform jacket belonging to the Knights of Camelot, Uther’s elite corps. The top dogs of a country that specialised in military and law enforcement.</p><p>“Please return to your seats,” the knight ordered in the almost booming silence. “This will only take a moment.”</p><p>A mad scramble broke out as all passengers simultaneously tried to get to their seats as quickly as possible, barely avoiding tripping over each other. The lady with her five kids ushered them into their seats under their loud protests, and the old man almost fell into his place beside Merlin, clutching his bag like a lifeline, eyes wide and worried.</p><p>Once all passengers were back in their seats, the knight made his way down the aisle, careful not to step on any of the trash that littered the floor like a minefield. He held a tablet in his hand, inspecting the passengers as he passed them, once or twice stopping to scrutinise a particularly nervous-looking person, but he never raised any alarm.</p><p>Right beside Merlin’s and the old man’s seats he came to a halt, lifting the tablet to glance at whatever was on the screen before addressing Merlin.</p><p>“Merlin Emmerson?”</p><p>“That’s me,” Merlin said, giving the knight a polite smile while the old man beside him almost disappeared into his seat to get as far away from Merlin as possible.</p><p>“Please come with me,” the knight said and stepped aside so the old man could get out and allow Merlin passage.</p><p>After making sure he had all of his things, including his half-eaten lunch, Merlin crawled out of his seat. The old man practically threw himself back into his once Merlin was standing and looked at him with huge, frightened eyes, and a glance around the bus, told Merlin the other passengers bore similar expressions of wariness. The knight had noticed it too, it seemed. He gave a good-natured laugh and clapped a friendly hand down on Merlin’s shoulder.</p><p>“Calm down,” he said to the bus at large. “Mr. Emmerson is not a criminal. I’m merely here to pick him up as a favour to his great uncle. Nothing suspicious going on here, I promise.”</p><p>The tension left the bus like a deflating balloon, and more than one passenger sent a sheepish smile their way as the knight escorted Merlin out of the bus where the border guards stood ready.</p><p>“Proceed,” the knight ordered, and the guard already in the bus barked out instructions to the passengers to get on with it. Next, the knight turned to Merlin. “Your luggage?” he asked. “I assume you have more than that.” He looked pointedly at the small backpack Merlin had had with him inside the bus.</p><p>“In the trunk with the rest,” Merlin said, inclining his head towards where the driver was opening up the bus’ storage room with the help of one of the border guards.</p><p>“I don’t suppose your luggage was the first to go in?”</p><p>“Sadly, no.”</p><p>“We’ll have to wait till they’ve got everything out then,” the knight said, not unfriendly. “I’m Sir Lancelot, by the way.”</p><p>“Merlin,” Merlin said and shook the knight’s hand. “But you already knew that.”</p><p>Lancelot smiled. “That I did.”</p><p>They stood there for a little while, watching as passengers were guided out of the bus and into two straight lines to go through the extensive security check where their bodies were scanned both for weapons and for magic items. The lady from before was still fighting to keep her children silent and obedient, but the border guard closest to them merely laughed at her struggle and rubbed the youngest boy’s head, saying something Merlin couldn’t hear. After the scan, their papers were checked — both the physical ones and in the online system they had all been put into when they bought their tickets. Fingerprints of all fingers were taken, along with pictures, and a simple prick blood test, and everything was added to the personal file Camelot had on them.</p><p>“This is going to take forever,” Lancelot said on a heavy sigh after a while and turned to Merlin. “Why don’t you describe your luggage to me and head to the restrooms before everyone’s crowding the facilities? I don’t know about you, but I’m eager to get out of here.”</p><p>Merlin grinned, described his rucksack, and headed to the restrooms beside the cafeteria. There was a guard blocking the entrance to the area, but with a glance towards Lancelot, Merlin was let through without protest.</p><p>When he came back, most of the passengers had been scanned, and trained dogs were searching through the luggage which had been pulled out of the trunk and piled up, sniffing out any possible drugs or dog treats. Afterwards the luggage would be scanned, too. Lancelot had located Merlin’s rucksack and already stowed it in the back of his black car. He opened the door to the passenger seat, gesturing for Merlin to get in, before going around the car to get in himself. He started the engine, put the car into gear, and drove off without Merlin having gone anywhere near a scanner.</p><p>After a few minutes of silence in which Merlin had dug through his little backpack to find the rest of his lunch, Lancelot said, “You look different than I thought you would.”</p><p>“Different?”</p><p>Lancelot shrugged. “I hadn’t expected the great Emrys to be so…” He paused, searching for words. “Well, <i>not</i>-fearsome looking.”</p><p>Grinning, Merlin arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying I’m scrawny?”</p><p>“Well,” Lancelot chuckled and turned the car left. “You’re certainly not brawny. But I suppose that doesn’t matter much when you’re—” he let go of the steering wheel with one hand briefly to make a vague gesture  “—you know.”</p><p>Merlin nodded and took a bite of his sandwich. “It doesn’t matter as much,” he said when he’d chewed for a bit. “I’ll be the first to admit I’m extremely clumsy and rather crap at physical stuff. But underestimating the power of pure physical strength along with what science can do was what made us easy targets. You can spend your whole life learning the words to a powerful spell, but if you can’t move your legs, you’re toast. So I was taught basic self-defence, though I’m probably nowhere near the level you’re at.”</p><p>“Well, I <i>am</i> a knight,” Lancelot said. “No one’s supposed to be good as us. At least not when it comes to non-magical combat.” There was a twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at Merlin. “Against you, I think most of us would be toast, though. If the rumours are true.”</p><p>Merlin laughed heartily. “Depends on which ones.”</p><p>They fell into easy conversation after that. Lancelot talked about his life as a knight as they drove through the landscape; how he was accepted into the ranks of the elite by slaying a griffin together with his friend, Sir Percival, and supplying humorous stories about his mates and their shenanigans. Merlin, in turn, told of his adventures as a child in Ealdor with his best mate Will, whom he hadn’t seen for ages.</p><p>There weren’t many other cars on the roads; mostly they encountered buses and small railway lines, as Uther had practically collectivised the entire infrastructure of Camelot. Whether it was to better keep control of his subjects’ whereabouts or to save on carbon gasses, Merlin wasn’t quite sure, but he supposed both might have played a part in the decision making.</p><p>It was late afternoon when they finally arrived in the capital. The sun was hanging low on the horizon, though not giving way to twilight just yet. People were still out on the streets, leaving work or school, and other things Merlin imagined normal people did. Joking and laughing with each other, listening to music on their pocket coms, or running to catch the bus, they were hardly the picture Merlin had expected from a totalitarian state as Camelot. In fact, he might as well have been driving through the capital of Essetir, had it not been for the lack of cars and the more obvious presence of police on the streets. The advertisements decorating the ad stands were different too, although Merlin recognised a few brands that also operated in Essetir, such as the bus company and a fast-food chain Merlin’s mates often frequented.</p><p>The castle grounds lay in the outskirts of the capital, but before they could enter the vast complex, they had to drive through a security gate where Lancelot rolled down the window and got his handprint and his eyes scanned by one of the guards on duty. Merlin’s papers were quickly perused — both the physical ones and his file on the web — but he wasn’t scanned, as he was in the company of a knight. And he had yet to be added to the database anyway, Lancelot explained, as the guard waved them through.</p><p>Aside from the castle itself and its many gardens, the knights’ headquarters were also part of the vast complex. They had bases elsewhere, of course, but their main facilities were kept as close to the royal family as possible. Lancelot parked the car in a large garage filled with black vehicles of all different sorts, including several cars identical to the one they’d been driving in.</p><p>Merlin crawled out of the car, stretching his sore legs, glad to finally be done with the long journey, while Lancelot pulled out Merlin’s rucksack from the trunk, slinging it over his shoulder.</p><p>As they made their way out of the garage, Merlin couldn’t help but glance up at the corners of the ceiling to see if he could spot any cameras. Camelot was supposedly watched from top to toe everywhere except in bathrooms. He knew from Elyan who knew from Gwen that there had even been cameras and listening devices installed into some people’s homes to keep an extra sharp eye on them. Unknowingly, of course.</p><p>Lancelot chuckled at his lack of subtlety and politely pointed the cameras out for him, throwing in a little wave to whomever was looking at the feed. Merlin was half-tempted to do the same, but figured Lancelot was probably waving to a colleague or a friend, so he refrained.</p><p>“I would give you a tour, but I imagine you are tired, and the grounds are quite vast,” Lancelot said when they were outside, gesturing out towards the large complex that lay before them. “We can wait until tomorrow.”</p><p>“I’d appreciate that,” Merlin said wryly. “I’d prefer to just go to Gaius’ rooms as soon as possible.”</p><p>Lancelot smiled and they set off down a path that presumably led to the wing of the castle Gaius lived in. But barely had they walked a few metres before a male voice called out “Lancelot!” behind them.</p><p>They turned around to see none other than Prince Arthur himself coming towards them. Instantly Merlin felt apprehension settle in his body, along with a slight rush of adrenaline, despite his training. The prince was in the company of two other knights, who each raised a hand in greeting. One was tall with short-cropped hair while the other had much longer, brown hair and a scruffy beard that would never be allowed in Cenred’s guards. All three were dressed in the standard knight’s uniform Lancelot also wore; the red jackets were padded with kevlar, and bearing the golden Pendragon crest on their arms.</p><p>“Sir Lancelot,” Arthur said, smiling as he and the knights came to a halt before them. “Where have you been all day?”</p><p>“At the border picking Merlin here up, Your Highness,” Lancelot said, gesturing to Merlin with the hand that wasn’t holding on to the strap of Merlin’s rucksack. “He’s come from Essetir to live with Gaius. Merlin is his great nephew.”</p><p>Arthur turned his attention to Merlin, raising an eyebrow. “To live with Gaius, you say?” he said, looking Merlin up and down with a doubtful expression, taking in Merlin’s most comfortable jogging set. “I hope he can teach him to dress better if he’s going to live at court.” He met Merlin’s eyes with a look of snide superiority and an arrogant smirk. “Or perhaps that is the fashion in Essetir?”</p><p>Merlin felt his mouth open involuntarily in a flabbergasted gape. The trepidation over facing the prince so shortly after arrival promptly vanished to instead be taken over by indignation. “I was travelling all day, you prat!” he heard himself answer. “Do you know how tiring it is to be sitting in a bloody tourist bus full of screaming children and old men who don’t know what a shower is? It’s not like I’d dress up for the occasion. But perhaps you’re too posh to realise the meaning of the word ‘practical.’”</p><p>Lancelot stiffened beside him, and the brown-haired knight’s smile widened considerably, while the tall one pressed his lips into a tight line as if trying to prevent himself from laughing. Merlin instantly regretted his words, but there was no taking them back, so he kept his face in a frown, staring Arthur down.</p><p>The prince’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his fringe, clear disbelief etched into his handsome features, his mouth slightly open as if he didn’t quite know what to say to this foolish peasant daring to speak out against him. And then, to both Merlin’s and Lancelot’s surprise, he threw back his head and let out a bark of joyous laughter.</p><p>“Oi, you’re a cheeky one,” Arthur said, clamping down a strong hand on Merlin’s shoulder, still grinning from ear to ear. “But you’re right. I don’t. Because I’m the prince,” Arthur pointed out, as if Merlin didn’t own a telly and was thus completely unaware of being in the presence of royalty, never mind the fact that Lancelot had called him ‘Your Highness’ just moments before. “Which means you address me as ‘sire’ or ‘Your Highness’ in the future, <i>Merlin</i>.”</p><p>“Right,” Merlin scoffed.</p><p>“Right, <i>sire</i>,” Arthur reminded him, squeezing briefly before letting go of his shoulder. “But I’ll let it go just this once.”</p><p>“How magnanimous of you,” Merlin said, then, rather pointedly, added, “<i>sire</i>.”</p><p>Arthur snorted. “Now you’re just testing my patience.” He turned his gaze to Lancelot next, saying, “You’d better be off before it runs out. I’m sure Gaius is waiting.”</p><p>“Of course, Your Highness,” Lancelot said, suppressing a smile. He bowed slightly before turning to the amused knights beside Arthur. “Sir Gwaine.” He nodded towards the brown-haired knight, then to the tall one. “Sir Percival.”</p><p>Merlin was still glowering at Arthur when Lancelot gently cupped his elbow. “Come on, Merlin,” he said and tugged.</p><p>Merlin thought it best to follow without too much fuss, and with one last unimpressed glare, turned away from Arthur and the knights. “I fear for your country’s future, if that’s supposed to be your next king,” he whispered to Lancelot, perhaps a bit too loud and a bit too soon.</p><p>“Hey, Merlin!” Arthur called after him, which confirmed Merlin’s fears, and he turned around to see Arthur arching a meaningful eyebrow, arrogant smirk back in place. “Just a tip: You might want to turn the cheek down a little bit when dealing with my father. He’s not as lenient as me.” He gave one last disdainful glance over Merlin’s clothes. “And you might want to let Sir Lancelot give you some fashion advice.”</p><p>And then he turned around without giving Merlin a chance to come up with a suitable answer, which, in hindsight, probably was for the best.</p><p>“Well,” Lancelot said after a small, significant pause when Arthur and the knights were out of earshot, “that could have gone better. But he seems to like you, which I suppose is a start.”</p><p>“I meant it, you know,” Merlin said, following Lancelot when he started walking again. “I really do fear for the future of this country.”</p><p>Lancelot chuckled good-naturedly. “He’s not that bad. And he’s got his heart in the right place. But you’ll see soon enough.”</p><p>Merlin was doubtful, but supposed that someone who’d gone directly against the law and smuggled a small boy accused of magic out of the country was not a completely lost case.</p><p>They entered the east wing of the castle, which was where all the living quarters of both the household staff and the royal family were located, although on different floors. Gaius’ rooms would be above the staff’s but beneath the royal family’s, on the same level as the knights who had opted to live in the castle instead of in a flat in the city. That option was mostly used by knights with blue blood in their veins, while the ones who had grown up as commoners preferred the city and the normal feeling to it. They weren’t used to the grandeur of the old buildings and the household staff, Lancelot explained, which was the reason he shared a flat with Gwen in the city, although Gwen had recently taken to spending the nights near Morgana in case of another loss of control.</p><p>“It’s going to be good having her home again,” he said as they went up the stairway. “I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a married man.”</p><p>Merlin laughed. “Good thing I’m here then.”</p><p>Eventually they reached Gaius’ rooms, which were placed right beside the infirmary, close to the stairway and the elevator for easy access from the other floors. Merlin knocked tentatively on the door, half-suppressing the tickle of excitement of finally seeing Gaius again. He hadn’t seen him in person since before he’d entered Nimueh’s tutelage, and even then, contact had been scarce, due to the unease between Uther and Cenred’s father, who’d been king at the time.</p><p>“Coming!” a muffled voice said from somewhere inside the room, followed by a noise that sounded like something heavy was moved, before the door was finally opened by a smiling Gaius. Merlin barely had time to take in the differences the years had brought about before he was pulled into a tight, affectionate hug. “It’s been so long,” Gaius said, voice muffled by Merlin’s shoulder, but there was a distinct hint of sadness in it.</p><p>“Too long,” Merlin agreed, returning the embrace as much as he dared, almost afraid to break the old bones. In the time that had passed, Gaius had gotten so much older than Merlin remembered, despite the video conferences they’d had recently. His hair was whiter, longer, and the deep wrinkles which adorned his face were much more pronounced than before. Merlin felt his heart clench at the thought that time had to pass at all. Gaius, in his seventies, wouldn’t live forever. He was young himself, yes, but how many years of being with family had he already lost? How many had Gaius, despite the knowledge of what his personal sacrifices had bought the Opposition?</p><p>Gaius pulled back, a fond smile still stretching his lips. “Look at you,” he said. “You’ve grown so much.” His eyes moved over Merlin’s lean frame, eyebrow frowning in displeasure. Merlin was glad to see some things just hadn’t changed. “Though still too skinny. Do they not feed you enough?”</p><p>Merlin laughed. “Of course they do. I’m just naturally thin. And the baggy clothes aren’t making it better, I suppose.”</p><p>Lancelot politely suppressed a snort, which Merlin chose to ignore, and Gaius probably didn’t hear, for he didn’t comment on it.</p><p>Instead he said, “Well then, don’t just stand there. Come in,” and ushered both Merlin and Lancelot inside, before closing the door behind them.</p><p>Gaius’ rooms were like a small flat on their own. There was a living room complete with bookshelves, a telly, carpet on the floor, and a sofa, plus two large, luxurious armchairs Merlin couldn’t wait to sink into. There was a table and chairs to eat at, and a small kitchenette for necessities, but Gaius said most meals were provided from the castle kitchens, so he mostly kept snacks and beverages in the refrigerator, should he grow hungry outside regular mealtimes. There was also a bedroom and a bathroom, naturally, but Gaius merely pointed at the doors before showing Merlin to what was going to be his own room.  </p><p>Lancelot dumped the rucksack on Merlin’s bed, the covers wrinkling slightly under the weight, and bid his goodbye with the promise that Gwen would give him a tour the next day, and take him to finally meet Morgana so they could get started as soon as possible.</p><p>Despite how tired he was after the long, tedious journey Merlin didn’t immediately go to bed after he’d unpacked his rucksack. Instead, he spent most of the evening just talking to Gaius, relishing in being in the presence of family for the first time in forever. He never wanted it to end, wanted to stay up all night, but had to remind himself that Gaius would also be there tomorrow. And the day after that. This wasn’t, after all, just a short visit. This was Merlin living with his family for an indefinite amount of time. And although he would have to get used to being on guard outside the protective walls of Gaius’ rooms, he could definitely get used to this wonderful feeling of being in the presence of family.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Personification of a Monster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I changed the rating to Teen after a discussion on ratings in one of the many Discord server's I'm in. As someone who's from a country where the highest rating anything can get is 15+, and where we have full-frontal nudity and swear words on state TV, I am super bad at judging what is appropriate for an international audience and tend to go for a higher rating, just in case. But then, that conversation happened, and I realised I might have rated this too high. Hence the Teen-rating. But if anything in this fic makes you feel like I should change it back to Mature, please let me know.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As promised, Gwen came by the next day to take Merlin to get properly registered in the system. He was required to, in case he was stopped by guards who didn’t recognise him as Gaius’ great nephew, and if he wanted to leave the castle grounds without an escort.</p>
<p>Afterwards, they took him on a tour around the castle grounds so that he might make himself familiar with the layout he’d only previously seen on printouts and screens back in Essetir. First there was the castle itself with its many floors. The living quarters were in the east wing, the parliament chambers and offices in the west wing, while the many ballrooms and halls were in the main part. Then came the many extensions still kept in the same style as the castle to preserve authenticity, although they’d been added much later.</p>
<p>As they made their way around the premises, Merlin had to admit that there was certainly a difference between seeing something on screen, compared to the stark reality of the sheer size of the grounds in real life. They were so vast, so incomprehensibly huge and bustling with life in the form of courtiers, staff, guards, knights, and other people with errands in the castle, Merlin was convinced he’d get lost about a million times. At least.</p>
<p>He admitted as much to his companions with a wry smile while they were walking among the rose bushes in one of the many gardens.</p>
<p>“You can just ask the guards until you can find your way around,” Gwen said, laughing. “You’re hardly expected to be able to navigate this labyrinth successfully the first hundred times. Heaven knows I ended up in the strangest places when I first came here.”</p>
<p>Judging by her tone that was a story Merlin needed to hear, and he was about to inquire further when they turned left around a couple of white rose bushes and stumbled upon two men Merlin knew to be members of parliament and the king of Camelot himself, Uther Pendragon.</p>
<p>Instantly, every muscle in his body tensed up in alarm, but whether in fear or simply malicious contempt, he couldn’t tell.</p>
<p>This was the Genocidal King of Camelot, as Nimueh called him, with scorn and pure hatred in her voice. This was the tyrant who relentlessly persecuted and killed their kind without remorse in some misplaced hunt for justice for a crime that had never been committed. How normal he looked for someone so bloodthirsty, simply talking earnestly with the members of parliament, nodding and making hand gestures that weren’t the slightest bit deranged nor animated with lunacy. Merlin had seen the king on the telly before, yes, but as with Arthur and the castle grounds, it was something completely different to be faced with the real-life version.</p>
<p>Especially when the king, upon noticing their presence, withdrew from the conversation he was having, and turned his full attention to them instead. “Gaius, Dame Guinevere,” Uther said pleasantly, with a tug of his lips that could almost be mistaken for a smile, before he turned his gaze to Merlin. “And you must be Merlin, Gaius’ nephew.”</p>
<p>“Your Majesty,” both Gaius and Gwen said as they bowed, hastily followed by Merlin who’d almost been too frozen in his observation of the king to remember himself and proper protocol.</p>
<p>“Yes, Your Majesty,” Merlin said once he’d straightened his back, half-astonished that Uther had been informed enough to acknowledge him. “Although the correct term is great nephew. Gaius is my mother’s uncle.”</p>
<p>“A minor detail,” Uther said, tone light and pleasant as he reached out a hand for Merlin to shake. “You are Gaius’ family regardless.”</p>
<p>“That I am.” Merlin took the offered hand, giving it a firm shake, plastering a big smile on his face. “And I cannot thank you enough for letting me stay here just like that, sire. It is most gracious of you considering what little I can contribute.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense,” Uther said. “It was hardly a matter of great consideration. In fact I am glad you have decided to come live here; Gaius has spent too long without family.”</p>
<p>“So have I,” Merlin said, forcing a little warmth into his voice.</p>
<p>It would almost be too easy, he thought. One spell and Uther would be dead before anyone could react. One spell and their nightmare would be over, and families could be reunited. </p>
<p>But he wasn’t stupid.</p>
<p>Now was not the time, as Nimueh had said. Had they only wanted him dead, he would be already. But killing Uther would be like cutting off the head of a hydra: two more would spring forth in the form of Arthur and public opinion, and it was better to keep the enemy contained until such times where the monster could be slayed with one strike.</p>
<p>They exchanged pleasantries for a little while. Uther asked him how he was finding Camelot so far, and Merlin answered with practised politeness, drawing Gaius and Gwen into the conversation when he mentioned the tour they were taking him on. Uther nodded, stating several places Merlin simply had to see, both in the castle and in the city, before the king’s companions reminded him of their presence. Goodbyes were traded and then Merlin found himself alone with Gaius and Gwen once again.</p>
<p>He could still feel his hands shaking ten minutes later, despite numerous reassurances from Gaius and Gwen that they weren’t.</p>
<p>Eventually, after Merlin had seen the rest of the gardens and after a slight detour to the kitchens for some lunch, they arrived at Morgana’s rooms. Gwen knocked gently on the door, waiting for the required “come in” before entering, followed by Gaius and Merlin.</p>
<p>The rooms were in the same style as the rest of the castle and richly decorated with paintings on the walls and old, possibly antique furniture that looked to be in the same perfect state as when it had first been made. That naturally didn’t mean that there weren’t also modern amenities like a telly and a radio on the kitchen counter. Probably a statcom in a study somewhere, too.</p>
<p>Morgana herself was sitting on the sofa in what amounted to the living room, a book in her hands, and her pocketcom on the table playing classical music. She looked up as they entered, lips stretching into a beaming smile when her eyes landed on Merlin.</p>
<p>“Your Highness,” Gwen said, clearly fighting a grin. “There is someone I’d like you to meet.”</p>
<p>Morgana placed the book on the sofa, open, so that she might find the same place again, and stood up to meet Merlin halfway across the room. “Hello, Lord Emrys,” she said, bowing slightly and there was a trace of reverence, of respect, and of delight in her voice, echoed by the gleam in her eyes.</p>
<p>“Hello, Princess Morgana,” Merlin said, answering Morgana’s smile with a grin of his own and a bow. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”</p>
<p>“Likewise, My Lord, I have been looking forward to it.”</p>
<p>“So have I, My Lady, but please call me Merlin. I’d rather not meet my end too soon,” Merlin said, not without humour.</p>
<p>Morgana’s smile fell into a sombre look. “I suppose none of us would.” She reached for his hands, clasping them firmly in hers. “So thank you,” she said, holding his gaze with all the earnestness of the desperate. “For coming to help me. I cannot express how much it means to me.”</p>
<p>He squeezed back. “You don’t have to,” he told her kindly. “Your continued survival is important to us all, and I cannot be sorry that I get an excuse to see my family. Or get to know the enemy I’ve only ever heard about or seen on the telly.”</p>
<p>“Still, thank you,” she said, then turned to Gwen. “Could you please make us some tea, Gwen? I am sure we have much to discuss, all of us.”</p>
<p>“Of course, Your Highness,” Gwen said and left for the kitchenette where she began to putter about with cups and the boiling water fuse.</p>
<p>“And do sit down, Gaius,” Morgana said next. “I’m sure you’ve been walking all day. You must be dead on your feet.”</p>
<p>Gaius frowned slightly. “I am not <i>that</i> old,” he said, but sat down on the sofa nonetheless, careful of the book, sighing heavily as if he were indeed exhausted beyond measure and had only kept walking because of his companions.</p>
<p>Merlin was left standing a bit awkwardly, wondering what he was supposed to do, but Morgana was still holding his hands, her lips pressed into a thoughtful pout, eyes roaming across his body as if searching for something. “You’re not as horribly dressed as I assumed,” she said.</p>
<p>That startled a baffled “What?” out of him.</p>
<p>Finding his gaze again, Morgana obviously fought to keep her amusement contained in a smirk. “My brother was here yesterday, you see, complaining about your atrocious choice of travelling clothes,” she confided. “I must say I’m disappointed you’re not still wearing them.”</p>
<p>Merlin snorted in disbelief, not sure whether he found the whole thing amusing or if he should be offended. “I’m sorry to say it, but your brother’s a right prat.”</p>
<p>“Don’t I know it.” Morgana chuckled, letting go of his hands after another slight squeeze for emphasis. “He’s really horrible when meeting new people. Doesn’t have any manners. At all. He’s convinced he doesn’t have to be nice to people just because he’s the crown prince.” She shook her head like someone who’d given up trying to correct a child’s behaviour. “Though he does seem to like you, if I gathered anything from the bitching. Which, I suppose, is a start, considering the whole prophecy-thing of my mother’s. I’m sure you’ll be friends in no time.”</p>
<p>“Just because there’s a prophecy doesn’t mean we have to be friends. I don’t particularly like Cenred, but I manage to work together with him anyway.”</p>
<p>“That is true,” Morgana said, going back to the sofa where she picked up the book to place it on the coffee table instead. “But I think friendship will be a given, nonetheless.” She sat down beside Gaius, letting one arm rest leisurely on the backrest. “I may be the oldest but we do hang around the same people. You’ll fit right in, you see.”</p>
<p>Merlin shrugged, choosing to fall into one of the comfy-looking armchairs instead of answering. Gwen came back with a tray filled with tea and biscuits and the topic changed to Morgana’s magic and how to go about teaching her control. Where the best place to teach her was, along with necessary safety precautions.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-ll-</p>
</div>After dinner, Morgana forced Merlin to come to the pub with her and Gwen to meet their mates.<p>“If you’re going to be friends with me, you’re also going to be friends with them,” Morgana had said and continued with a very definite, “You might as well meet them all tonight since for once we’re all off duty, and it’ll be awhile before that happens again,” when Merlin had tried to beg off.</p>
<p>And that had been the end of that discussion. Gwen went home to change out of her uniform, while Morgana followed Gaius and Merlin back to their rooms where she sorted through all Merlin’s clothes to find something suitable for him to wear, despite his protest. She also muttered something about taking him shopping for new clothes someday since he hadn’t been able to bring much from Essetir. Then she forced him to change, also under protest, and then they were on their way.</p>
<p>Technically there was a curfew from ten in the evening to six in the morning where people weren’t allowed out on the streets without special permission, but that didn’t mean people didn’t go out. As with the bus company, there was another one that specialised in driving people to and from their destinations in little red taxis. They registered the passengers’ data and where they were going/coming from, then sent the information to whoever handled the surveillance. Keeping the streets safe, of course, was the official reason.</p>
<p>But since Morgana was the princess, they didn’t take a taxi. Instead they were driven to the pub in a sleek black car with tinted windows by an official driver for the royal family.</p>
<p>The Rising Sun, as the pub was called, might as well have been placed in Essetir as much as it looked like an ordinary pub, though Merlin did spot a few cameras in the corners near the ceiling when they entered. The potent smell of beer hung in the air almost like a fog only visible in the dim lights of the lamps hanging over the booths, where the patrons were drinking and chatting amicably among themselves. Some people were playing pool in the middle of the room, others were hanging about the bar while waiting for the bartender to have their order ready. None were giving the princess of their country a second look as she made her way to the back of the pub with Merlin in tow.</p>
<p>Gwen and Lancelot were already sitting beside each other in a booth in the corner of the pub, squished together and holding hands on the table. They were having a discussion with the brown-haired knight Merlin had seen with Arthur the day before. Another man with curly, ginger hair seemed to be participating too, although not with the same vigour as the others, instead casually sipping his pint as he listened. In front of him sat the tall knight who was named Percival if Merlin’s memory served him well, and lastly, Arthur himself seemed to be nursing a glass of cider.</p>
<p>“Hi,” Morgana said to announce their arrival once they were close enough, successfully drawing the attention of the booth.</p>
<p>“Morgana,” Arthur said, with just a hint of the sneer that was expected of siblings. “Nice of you to finally join us.” His eyes drifted to Merlin, quickly giving him an inspecting once-over. “And I see you’ve brought a stray. At least today, it seems he’s managed to dress himself suitably.”</p>
<p>“He did receive some help,” Morgana confessed with a laugh.</p>
<p>“I guess it was too much to hope for a miracle,” Arthur said, a haughty smirk in place.</p>
<p>“I feel like I might as well move back to Essetir if this is how guests are treated,” Merlin said, crossing his arms, eyebrow arched pointedly.</p>
<p>The brown haired knight barked out a laugh. “Don’t worry, Merlin. It’s not that bad. I’m from Caerleon originally, and they haven’t managed to chase me off just yet.”</p>
<p>“And what a terrible shame that is,” Morgana said dryly before turning back to Merlin. “Merlin, get your arse in the seat and make yourself acquainted with these fine folks. I’ll go get us something to drink.”</p>
<p>It sounded a bit too much like an order, so Merlin thought it in his best interests to do as told, and he sat himself down beside the curly-haired man while Morgana flounced off to the bar.</p>
<p>“So,” Merlin said to his new seat neighbour, fully aware that the others’ attention was still on him. “I’m Merlin. Gaius’ great nephew. I’ve just moved here from Essetir.” He stuck out his hand.</p>
<p>The man took it, lips stretching into a greeting smile. “I’m Leon.”</p>
<p>“Nice to meet you, Leon.” Merlin let go of his hand, then turned to Arthur. “You, I’ve already had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting, so I’m not even going to bother.”</p>
<p>As predicted, Arthur laughed, but thankfully didn’t say anything as Merlin shook hands with the tall knight, who confirmed his name was indeed Percival. Next was the brown-haired knight, the one from Caerleon, who introduced himself as Gwaine. Which Merlin might have heard the day before, now that he thought about it. Lancelot and Gwen he already knew, so he merely gave them a wave and a smile, before settling back down into his seat.</p>
<p>Morgana chose that moment to arrive with two pints in her hands. She put one down in front of Merlin, then seemed to have a staring contest with her brother, who eventually gave in and motioned for his mates to move closer together so that Morgana could slip in beside him. She clinked her glass with Merlin’s before taking a large, grateful sip, as if she hadn’t drunk anything the last few days.</p>
<p>Merlin also took a sip, trying out the taste of the foreign beer for a second. He took another sip, keeping the liquid on his tongue before swallowing. Then he took a large gulp.</p>
<p>He was met with amused chuckles when he put the glass down again, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, disregarding Morgana’s displeased look at the action.</p>
<p>“Tasty, isn’t it?” Gwaine grinned, gesturing with his own pint. “Definitely better than the shite you get in Caerleon.”</p>
<p>“Definitely better than what you get in Essetir, too,” Merlin agreed. “Had I known this, I would have moved here sooner.”</p>
<p>“But why <i>did</i> you move here?” Percival asked, either genuinely interested or merely for conversation’s sake. “I mean, aside from coming to live with Gaius. You must’ve had a life in Essetir. Friends. Family.”</p>
<p>Merlin shrugged, wondering if Percival simply hadn’t read his file or was trying to be polite by asking the question instead of letting him know they all already knew. “I guess I missed my family,” Merlin said. “I don’t have a dad, and my mum left for the continent years ago, leaving me to be raised by a friend, though I mostly attended boarding school.” It wasn’t even a lie. Just not the whole truth. He had, in fact, attended boarding school, but mostly as a day student since he’d lived at Cenred’s castle. And he did, actually, have a father. Just one he’d barely met before he’d left Merlin with Nimueh and whisked Hunith away to rekindle their lost love, or whatever they were up to across the Channel. Most likely some work for the Opposition.</p>
<p>He continued after another large sip of his pint. “And well, I was getting tired of always studying, so when Gaius offhandedly mentioned I could come live with him, I thought, ‘Why not?’ and took him up on his offer.” He spread his arms out in a presentation of himself. “So here I am.”</p>
<p>Arthur arched his brow. “You left your studies to come live like a freeloader here? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”</p>
<p>“Says the one who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Besides, I’ve just put my studies on hold. I can always return to them later. Gaius, on the other hand, is not going to be around forever,” Merlin stated pointedly.</p>
<p>Arthur’s grin fell. He cleared his throat. “So what did you study? <i>Do</i> you study?” It almost sounded polite.</p>
<p>“Humanities in general,” Merlin answered, just as politely.</p>
<p>“Humanities?” Leon echoed, turning to better see Merlin, his elbow coming to rest on the sticky table.</p>
<p>“Yeah, you know, philosophy, literature, drama, history. Stuff like that.” Stuff like spells, potions, and a bit of the old religion, although he wasn’t to be a priest.</p>
<p>“All of it? I thought university was where you chose one field to specialise in.” Leon took a sip of his cider, then amended, “Not that I know anything about university. I was always meant to be a knight. It’s in the family, you see.”</p>
<p>“I thought you had to do some heroic deed to even be considered as a squire,” Merlin said, genuinely curious. “And I wasn’t sure what to do with my life, so it was suggested to me that I simply try a bit of everything, see what I like. And now I’m just bone-deep tired of it all.”</p>
<p>“You sound like one of those indecisive bums who’re going to end up as eternal students,” Arthur remarked. “You’ll have a million degrees without any idea of what to do with them. And, yes, we all—” he gestured to the booth at large with the hand that wasn’t holding his cider “—did our heroic deeds before being accepted into knight’s training. Even Morgana and I.”</p>
<p>“You’re probably right,” Merlin agreed, scrunching his nose. “Except now I’m here. <i>Not</i> studying. So you might as well give me the heroic tales of your heroic deeds.”</p>
<p>Leon took the cue and began the exciting story of how he had single-handedly rescued an entire family from a burning house. The others jumped on the wagon, boasting about their not-quite entirely true tales of heroic deeds, that only got worse the more alcohol was consumed.</p>
<p>Merlin laughed, so much so that it hurt in his stomach, and thought that his stay in Camelot would not be so bad after all. None of them seemed to suspect a thing, and if he knew anything about body language, he was already being branded as one of their mates.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-ll-</p>
</div>Merlin spent his days in Camelot in relative ease. Since Morgana was a knight, her spare time was heavily limited, which meant Merlin was left with a lot of free time on his hands. Time he spent reading in the gardens, enjoying the weather that grew warmer each day, or taking long walks around the city to observe its citizens, who seemed just as content with life as the people of Essetir. Sometimes he would hang out with Lancelot or Gwen when they were off duty, and other times Gwaine took it upon himself to drag Merlin to the pub when neither Gwen, Morgana, or Lancelot were around to do it.<p>Occasionally, he would run into Arthur too, or, more correctly, Arthur would run into him. He seemed to have scouted out Merlin’s favourite reading spot and often came by to bother Merlin about his book choices or some other thing that apparently just wouldn’t do in Camelot, now that his clothing wasn’t an issue, since Morgana had made good on her promise to take him shopping. Sometimes Arthur would be in the company of a couple of knights, particularly Gwaine, Percival, and Leon, while other times he would be alone.</p>
<p>Uther, too, chanced upon Merlin from time to time in the gardens, but he was much more forthcoming and often chose to applaud Merlin on his choice of classical literature and discuss the different interpretations with him.</p>
<p>The irony that he got along better with the Genocidal King of Camelot wasn’t lost on Merlin. But despite numerous appearances on telly spouting hateful speeches about magic and the importance of surveillance to protect the citizens of Camelot, he wasn’t a monster on a day-to-day basis. Before Merlin had come to Camelot, he’d imagined Uther as a ferocious beast hated by his people, and the knights as his blind minions following his every whim, but it just wasn’t so. Uther was nothing but cordial to Merlin, and the knights were no better or worse than the guards he had known in Essetir.</p>
<p>And then, when Merlin had been there for two months, a magic user called Thomas Collins was caught and Merlin was abruptly pulled out of the nice little bubble of contented blindness he’d found himself in.</p>
<p>He wasn’t supposed to know about what was happening, and he didn’t know anything officially, but Lancelot and Gwen kept him well-informed.</p>
<p>During their magic lessons, Morgana was as pale as a sheet, clutching his hands like a lifeline while he taught her not to let her magic act out on that horrifying fear in self-defence. They didn’t talk much about Thomas Collins, but what wasn’t said hung heavily in the air between them instead.</p>
<p>But there was nothing Merlin could do, nothing Morgana could do, and nothing Gwen or Lancelot could do; the safety of one person wasn’t worth the risk of exposing themselves. And why should they save Collins when they hadn’t saved so many others before him for the same reason? Infiltration was a hard fought prize, and helping Thomas Collins could potentially ruin everything they had achieved already, even if they deployed some of the lesser operatives of the Opposition that had been placed among the regular guards. One mistake and it would all come apart.</p>
<p>So instead Merlin concentrated on teaching Morgana the best he could in her tiny rooms that wouldn’t allow for anything big or explosive. It was, after all, what he was sent to do, and it was something to occupy his mind while he pretended he didn’t know anything or wasn’t secretly terrified of being caught too soon. Reasoning told him it was unfounded; nobody beside Gwen, Gaius, and Lancelot knew of Merlin’s and Morgana’s magic, not even the other members of the Opposition stationed in Camelot. Certainly not the Resistance, which the captured magic user had been a part of, and even they knew how to work the secrecy spells. A fact that was confirmed by Gwen, who said they could barely get the man to say his own name, despite the truth serum they’d forced down his throat.</p>
<p>Still, the fear was there.</p>
<p>Finally, when the knights had decided they could extract no more information out of Thomas Collins, his capture and the date of his public execution were announced on every news channel in Camelot. It would reach Essetir too, where Cenred would use this prime opportunity to let the news anchors discuss Uther’s inhumanity and barbarism. There would be interviews with former citizens of Camelot who’d managed to escape the horrors of Uther’s regime, who would all say how wonderful it was to be living in Essetir instead. But none of that could reach inside the firewall of Camelot that sorted through everything on the web and only let government-approved material pass through. What Merlin heard on the news instead were declarations of how effective the knights were, and promises of continued protection of the evil that was magic.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-ll-</p>
</div>The atmosphere on the day of Thomas Collins’ execution, a day that was otherwise bright with the first rays of sun that had summer in them, was heavy with the weight of impending death. Nobody was laughing or even smiling.<p> The executional square was not really a square in the classical sense, but more of a large pit formed like a square where nobody but the knights and guards had access. The spectators stood on tribunes, looking down at the square from above like they might be spectators to a simple sports game. Except on a much smaller scale, and no beer or refreshments were sold.</p>
<p>Merlin and Gaius were positioned in the same box as other head members of the castle staff, close to the royal loge where Uther and Morgana stood with their guards, their faces folded into impassive masks. Arthur was down in the square with Percival, Lancelot, Gwaine, and other knights Merlin hadn’t been properly introduced to. All were bearing firearms and standing in a straight line facing the pole, except Arthur who appeared to be in charge of the proceedings.</p>
<p>He glanced up at Uther who nodded once, before he shouted, “Bring him in!”</p>
<p>The tribunes, which hadn’t been overly loud beforehand, fell completely silent at his order. It was as if they were holding their breaths while looking towards the door of the holding cell where Thomas Collins was being held. The doors opened, and out stepped Gwen followed by an armed guard, Collins in magic-blocking handcuffs, and then several other guards equally armed and pointing their guns at Collins, before the doors slid closed behind Leon. They marched over to the pole where Gwen, stone-faced, freed one of Collins’ hands, only to guide him to stand in front of the pole where she cuffed him again, arms around the wood.</p>
<p>Once Thomas Collins was properly secured, she stepped away, followed by the guards and Leon who separated into two straight lines that took positions on either side of the pole, a safe distance away so no stray bullets could hit them.</p>
<p>Uther stepped forward, raising an arm as if greeting his people or calling for quiet, though the silence was already deafening. An assistant hastily adjusted the mic in front of the king, turning it on before stepping away to let Uther speak.</p>
<p>“There are those who seek to destroy the peace we have fought so hard for,” his voice boomed out of the numerous speakers placed around the square and the tribunes. “There are those who seek to bring imbalance to our prospering society, to burn down everything we hold dear. Today, we have gathered to show the terrorists that justice will be served and it will be served swiftly!”</p>
<p>Uther’s cold eyes landed on Collins. “Thomas Collins!” His voice was filled with hatred and abhorrence, like a god calling judgement upon a mere mortal. “You have been found guilty of the crimes of sorcery and treason, and for affiliation with the group of terrorists that call themselves the Resistance. For those crimes there can be only one punishment: Death by execution.” He let the words ring through the silence, pausing for the spectators to take in the gravity of the sentence before he continued. “Do you have any last words?”</p>
<p>“I do,” Collins said, and there must have been a mic in the pole or somewhere near it, for his words could easily be heard.</p>
<p>“Then let us hear them.”</p>
<p>Thomas Collins took a deep, steadying breath, exhaling with an expression that could be mistaken for a grim smile — the face of a man who’d made his peace and accepted his death. “Dear mum,” he started, looking out over the tribunes, searching, “wherever you are. Please don’t do anything stupid. Just remember that I love you. I always will.”</p>
<p>Gwen stepped forward again, presenting Collins with a black blindfold. He nodded and she tied it around his eyes, returning to her place afterwards. Uther nodded to Arthur and the prince turned to the row of executioners standing ready with their firearms resting on their shoulders, backs ramrod straight.</p>
<p>“Ready!” he ordered.</p>
<p>The knights lifted their firearms with the stiff, precisely coordinated movements of the military.</p>
<p>“Aim!”</p>
<p>They aimed. Thomas Collins heaved in his last breath.</p>
<p>“Fire!”</p>
<p>The sound of ten gunshots boomed out over the area, rushing over the tribunes like a tidal wave. Thomas Collins slumped down the pole. Dead. Ten bullets in his body.</p>
<p>Uther’s voice resonated out through the speakers again. “Let this serve as a reminder that there can be no place for magic in Camelot.” Then the king turned around and left, as if he could no longer bear to be in the presence of the dead sorcerer, not staying to see the guards uncuff the body before carrying it out on a stretcher.</p>
<p>Merlin stayed.</p>
<p>He stayed to watch Thomas Collins be taken away, to watch the firing squad march out, led by a stone-faced Arthur. He stayed until the spectators were long gone and the tribunes had emptied excepting the lone cleaning lady who sent him a wary look before sweeping past him. He stayed until she was gone, too, until the afternoon sun had stopped warming and the rays of orange and red had begun spreading across the sky like a water painting.</p>
<p>Then he left.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. It's a Good Day For an Assassination</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Midsummer had sent the temperature skyrocketing, and Merlin had put on about ten layers of sunscreen lotion and the lightest formal clothes he owned, and still he was sweating like a waterfall. People around him, including Gaius, had had the foresight to bring fans, vigorously creating their own little personal whirlwind to combat the sweltering heat that had lain around the country the last few weeks. Merlin longed to be inside the protective walls of the castle, where the old stones kept out most of the heat and the aircon did the rest.</p><p>But today was the day of the annual military parade that celebrated the anniversary of the end of The Great Purge, and due to Gaius’ position in the court, they were both expected to attend the festivities. It was hardly a day of celebration in Merlin’s humble opinion, but in Camelot, it was a holiday that was as central as the birthdays of the members of the royal family. Schools were closed, offices and workplaces too. Only the bare minimum, like hospitals and fire stations, were still up and running. The hotels and inns were also open, of course; people had come from all over the country to watch as Uther marched his might through the city, and the excessive demand for beds was an opportunity too good to pass up on.</p><p>Back in Essetir, Merlin had watched the parades on telly. For this special occasion, foreign camera crews and news reporters were invited to document the quantity and supremacy of Camelot’s military prowess. It was propaganda in its finest form, to show the people of Camelot that they were protected from what harm may befall them, and at the same time, to serve as a reminder to adversaries that Uther’s strength was unquestionable, that his seat of power was as solid as the day he first sat in it.</p><p>Uther’s propaganda machine was well-oiled, and Merlin did have to admit the sight of most of Camelot’s military forces gathered in one place was simply breathtaking — and completely overwhelming from his vantage point on a balcony facing the main street of Camelot, where he stood with many of the same people that had shared their box at the executional square.</p><p>Had he been down in the thick of it, he would have been a fish in a sea of people, unaware of how big the ocean really was, but from above, the full picture unfolded. He felt a little prick of uncharacteristic fear at the sheer number of infantry marching down the street in perfect military synchronization. The soldiers were dressed in their best, impeccably pressed military uniforms and with their arms swinging in tune to their march; it looked like waves coursing through an enormous river.</p><p>‘<i>They’re coming soon. All in position?</i>’ Merlin heard.</p><p>“Did you say anything?” He glanced at Gaius.</p><p>“No,” Gaius said, still looking out over the street, watching the march like someone who hadn’t seen the same thing for the last 22 years.</p><p>‘<i>Check.</i>’</p><p>‘<i>All clear.</i>’</p><p>‘<i>All in position.</i>’</p><p>It sounded like check-ins. There was a guard on the balcony with them, and Merlin was probably just picking up the radio chatter from the heavy security detail keeping order of the masses. After the knights, the royal family would follow in a horse-drawn carriage, so naturally the guards would be checking up on their positions.</p><p>Merlin turned back to look at the street where the sound of hooves could be heard in the distance, signalling the arrival of the first line of knights, and he had to admit that he’d been looking forward to seeing them.</p><p>In remembrance of what knights used to be, they were all mounted on horses, riding in perfect tandem in that weird, not-quite trot commonly used in parades to show off the horsemanship of the riders. They had forgone their usual uniform in favour of riding boots and trousers and a red dress jacket heavily decorated with golden buttons and the Pendragon crest over their hearts instead of on the arms.</p><p>‘<i>And Mary Collins?</i>’</p><p>‘<i>In position, too.</i>’</p><p>Merlin stiffened. Mary Collins was the name of Thomas Collins’ mum, and had supposedly gone missing after her son’s execution. He’d never heard her voice before, but he had to assume that the one who’d just spoken was her, as the voice clearly belonged to an old lady. Which meant that whatever conversation he was listening to wasn’t coming from the guards.</p><p>Could it… could it be the Resistance instead? Thomas Collins had, after all, belonged to the organization. It would not be too far off to guess his mum might also have joined them. But if Merlin could hear them, surely the guard on the balcony could too.</p><p>‘<i>Excellent. Remember to wait for the signal.</i>’</p><p>He turned around to gauge the guard’s expression, but surprisingly, he stood as still as when they had first taken their places on the balcony, hands behind his back as he observed the parade with the others.</p><p>Merlin frowned. He hadn’t misheard, had he? He was sure—</p><p>‘<i>Of course. I have not forgotten the plan.</i>’</p><p>The voice sounded as clear if the speaker had been standing right next to him. Everyone on the balcony should have been able to hear it, but none reacted.</p><p>‘<i>Your sacrifice will not be in vain.</i>’</p><p>Was it— could it really be— telepathy? He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. <i>Listened.</i></p><p>‘<i>I’ll make sure it won’t.</i>’</p><p>It was. He opened his eyes again.</p><p>Although he was not well-versed in speaking that way, he’d had enough conversations with Mordred to know the unmistakable feeling, now that he was aware of it. Usually, though, telepathy was only used between two people at a time, like a private dialogue, but this was more like a loud broadcast, where everyone with magic would be able to hear. It would take quite the telepath to connect with so many people at once and over such a large area. How peculiar. Not even Mordred was skilled enough for that, yet.</p><p>So that was how the Resistance communicated under operations. Pretty brilliant, Merlin had to admit. They were using the very advantage they had - the one thing the knights wouldn’t be able to ferret out in their vast, technology-based surveillance network, as there was no sorcerer who would willingly work for Uther.</p><p>Merlin glanced at Gaius. He didn’t seem to have heard anything. Perhaps because he hadn’t used magic in ages, or maybe, because the Resistance, along with everybody else, were convinced that Gaius was utterly Uther’s man, and therefore they were actively blocking him from their conversation. Obviously, they hadn’t counted on Merlin listening in.</p><p>‘<i>Thomas will be proud of you.</i>’</p><p>‘<i>It is only fitting, isn’t it? A son for a son.</i>’</p><p>With his brain nearly jolting into a stop trying to process what they’d just implied, it took a few seconds before the words registered properly, before their meaning became clear to Merlin. Although he hadn’t caught much, couldn’t know the plan from only the brief exchange he’d overheard, he <i>knew</i> the Resistance’s target from the malicious wish of vengeance in Mary Collins’ thoughts and the implications of what she’d said.</p><p>Arthur. She was going to kill Arthur.</p><p>A son for a son, indeed.</p><p>“I have to go,” Merlin blurted abruptly and didn’t wait for Gaius’ confused inquiry before pressing himself through the people on the balcony to get out. He ran through the adjacent room and pounded down the stairs at the end of the hallway, barely avoiding running down a woman who shouted after him.</p><p>Bloody Resistance. Did they absolutely have to go and interfere with the Opposition’s plans?</p><p>He was out on the crowded sidewalk before it occurred to him that he hadn’t the faintest idea of what to do. He didn’t even know how they were going to go after Arthur, aside from the fact that it involved Mary Collins, and she hadn’t sounded like she planned to make it out alive. But judging by the different voices Merlin had heard, she was not the only operative, even if it sounded like she was the main character of the day. They could also have placed a sniper on one of the many tall buildings in view of the main street, disguised under an invisibility spell to take care of things in case Mary Collins failed. Or perhaps she was the shooter. They could also have infiltrated the security detail - if they were anything like the Opposition, they already had. They could have placed a spell on the road that would only be triggered by that royal carriage. They could be hiding among the spectators, waiting to strike when the carriage drove by. And they could be standing anywhere on the long main street of the capital of Camelot.</p><p>The possibilities were endless, and as he was the only person aware of the threat, he couldn’t investigate them all. Unless, of course, he chose to expose himself to one of the many sleeper agents of the Opposition. But could he risk it? Even with the heavy layer of secrecy spells they’d all been subjected to, he wasn’t keen on randomly tattling to someone who might not even believe who he was. Not to mention that the possibility of being overheard was too high in a place like this.</p><p>He supposed he could have alerted the guard on the balcony to the impending danger, but how would he explain where his information came from? Perhaps the guards would react on an anonymous tip, but how did one go about giving one in a kingdom where cams and face-tracers watched your every move, and where anything going through electronic systems could be traced unless a magical filter had been put in place to prevent it. And it just so happened that the only device on which he knew such a spell had been installed belonged to Gwen. Who was riding in the parade and thus not contactable. Great.</p><p>What then? What should he do?</p><p>He took a deep breath to fight the slight panic that was lurking beneath his skin, and closed his eyes to <i>listen</i> - to see if he could get some hints that could help him figure out their plan and give him an idea of how to act accordingly. But the only thing he could hear was the excited buzz from the sea of people watching the parade, and the clunking sound of hooves from the knights’ horses.</p><p>He cursed. Opened his eyes again to look out over the street where the knights were riding by.</p><p>The royal carriage would come after the knights, in between them, actually. And then there would be knights again. Surrounded by so many of the elite, the king and his children were well-protected, and the Resistance would know that. They would take their precautions. Perhaps that was why Mary Collins had likely been drafted into partaking in a suicide mission. Grieving from the loss of her son, she would have been easily manipulated into giving her own life for revenge. She would strike quickly, and have no ways of escape, would not even have much time to react, so she would have to make sure she struck true. Which meant that whatever it was, there was a high possibility of it hurting Morgana too.</p><p>And then a thought struck him; simple, and out of the blue, and quite possibly the answer he was looking for.</p><p>Morgana.</p><p>If he could get a telepathic message to Morgana, she could interfere on his behalf. Perhaps he’d even be so lucky that she’d overheard what he had, and reached the same conclusion as him. But as she was far away, she might not have. He couldn’t count on it.</p><p>He began pressing himself through the crowd to get to the beginning of the street where the royal carriage could appear any moment, barely bothering to apologise to the people he shoved past. The main street was incredibly long, and getting the message to Morgana, before Mary Collins and her fellow Resistance members could strike, was vital. They could be lurking anywhere in the crowd, and unless they began telepathically communicating again, Merlin wouldn’t have the faintest idea of where exactly that was. It could be at the beginning, or the very end, or anywhere in between.</p><p>‘<i>I have them in view. They’ve just driven into the street.</i>’</p><p>Maybe he was shoving people out of the way a bit too forcefully after those words had resonated through his brain, but he hardly even registered people’s protests over the pounding of his heart in his ears. It was just a lookout, he told himself, just someone keeping track for the others. He still had time.</p><p>And there was the carriage in the distance. He could just see it over the heads of the other spectators.</p><p>‘<i>Morgana!</i>’ he tried, doing his best to think his thoughts in her direction. He wasn’t a great telepath so he knew it wouldn’t reach anyone but her, if it reached at all.</p><p>There was no answer.</p><p>His body screamed at him to set into a run, adrenaline and anxiety pumping through his bloodstream, but the crowd was too dense and too immovable for him to move faster than a simple fast-paced walk.</p><p>‘<i>Morgana!</i>’ Merlin thought again, with the same result as before.</p><p>They were still too far away then, but it wouldn’t be long before he was within range. The open horse-drawn carriage was moving towards him, closing the distance bit by bit, even as he was forcing his way towards it.</p><p>He forced himself out to the safety barrier which proved to be considerably harder as the density of the crowd increased the closer he got to the road. Several people were fighting back as he tried to shove past them, and even plastering on his sweetest smile, did not grant him passage.</p><p>By the time the space in front of him was finally free of people, and only the safety barrier kept him from the road, the carriage was almost at his level, and he could see the royal family quite clearly.</p><p>The king was sat in the middle, wearing his glistening crown as if to remind the world who he was, waving to his subjects, and bearing a self-satisfied smile Merlin would hate him for if not for the fact that he simply didn’t have <i>time<i> for such trivial spite. Morgana was, unfortunately, sitting on the side of Uther, facing the opposite side of the road, dressed in a beautiful emerald green gown. He couldn’t see the front of her head, but he knew from previous years that she would be wearing jewels and a tiara.</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>Morgana!</i>’ Merlin tried, moving up the street again to stay in line with the carriage. ‘<i>Morgana, listen to me. It’s Merlin. There’s going to be an attempt at Arthur’s life. Do you understand? You must warn him! Morgana!</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>There was still no answer. Her shoulders didn’t even tense up to indicate that she’d heard him, and neither did she turn her head in his direction, instead still waving to the people on the other side of the street.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>Morgana!</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>No answer.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>It occurred to him, then, that Morgana was simply unable to hear him. Not because he was a bad telepath, but because they’d never trained her own telepathy. It was a skill all those with magic could learn to use with various degrees of capacity, but as with all other things, it was a skill that had to be trained. Morgana’s magic had lain dormant for so long and surfaced so late, Merlin should have known her telepathic abilities were still latent. He would have to teach her as soon as all this was settled.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Unfortunately, the realisation didn’t help him figure out what to do now. Although there <i>was</i> one option left.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Arthur himself was sat facing the road on Merlin’s side, wearing a circlet on his golden head and fine, princely clothes. Merlin kept moving to stay in line with the carriage, hoping that the movement would catch Arthur’s eyes. When it didn’t seem to work, he began waving his arms, completely ignoring the disdainful looks people threw him.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The stiffening of Arthur’s shoulders, and the quick look of perplexity that made its way across the prince’s face before a fake smile won out, told Merlin Arthur had noticed him. For a moment he felt like sagging with relief but the knowledge that Arthur was still in danger kept him going. He refrained from shouting, knowing that would alert the Resistance. Instead he tried mouthing it, making his mouth form the words ‘Resistance’ and ‘Mary Collins’ as clearly as he could.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Arthur’s smile, as he continued waving, looked even more restrained, and Merlin supposed that even if Arthur believed magic was evil, the prince desperately wished telepathy was one of his abilities right that moment. So did Merlin.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He tried mouthing the word ‘danger’ and let a finger glide over his throat in the universal sign for death. Kept following the carriage up the street. Tried mouthing again.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Arthur still didn’t react beyond the already strained expression he bore.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>They’re almost by you. Prepare yourself.</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>I know. I can see them, and I am ready. This is for you, Thomas. Uther will regret the day he took you from me!</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Cold sweat broke out over Merlin’s body at the words, fuelled by a hefty dose of panic at the acknowledgement that he was, literally, without options now. He didn’t think. With one arm on the safety barrier, he jumped over and sprinted out on the road in complete view of everyone.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Merlin!” Arthur bellowed, face red and twisted into shock and outrage. “What do you think you are doing!?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>What’s happening?</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>Someone just stormed towards the carriage.</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>Is it one of ours?</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>I don’t think so. I don’t recognise him.</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>Do we abort?</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The confused voices in Merlin’s head as he closed the distance to the carriage convinced him it had been the right thing to do, even as he regretted it when he saw the king’s absolutely livid face.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>No! We go to plan B instead. This won’t be the grand statement we intended, but we can still get revenge for Thomas.</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“What madness is this?!” Uther’s voice boomed out over the area, silencing the commotion that had risen when Merlin had sprinted. He was as red in the face as Arthur, and if the Resistance didn’t act, Merlin was sure he’d face banishment, if not execution.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>Alright. At least I get front row seats.</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Morgana had also turned to look, but unlike the king and the prince, she had realisation painted across her face and was quick to order the driver to stop the horses.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>Say goodbye to your son, King Uther.</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Get down!!” Merlin shouted frantically. Then, hysterically, when Arthur didn’t heed his warning. “Get down!”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“What are you on about?!” Arthur barked as Merlin reached the side of the carriage.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Without time to explain, and with strength Merlin didn’t know he possessed, he forced Arthur down from his seat despite their differences in weight. A second later, sudden, intense pain spread through his left shoulder, and he was faintly aware of a loud collective gasp from the masses behind the safety barriers, echoed by the king himself.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>‘<i>Fuck, I missed. Mary, it’s your turn.</i>’</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Arthur used the distraction to fight him off, shoving Merlin aside and out of the carriage with an angry, “Merlin! What are—” His words died in his throat, face turning a sickly white when his eyes landed on the flower of blood blooming out over Merlin’s shirt, which Merlin found just a little bit hilarious considering it wasn’t him who’d been shot.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“The Resistance…” Merlin wheezed out through clenched teeth, clinging to the side of the carriage with all his might despite the pain in his shoulder, “is <i>here.</i>”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>And of course, as fate would have it, that was the moment Mary Collins chose to spring forth from her hiding place in the crowd. Merlin couldn’t see her, she was coming towards his exposed back, but he could feel the magic amassing in the palm of her hand, sucking in energy from the surrounding air. In the mirror of Arthur’s startled clear, blue eyes, he could see the fireball forming and growing.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He closed his eyes to hide the gold that took over and concentrated on gathering the air around the area, filling it with an energy Mary Collins could not control, for it was all his.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He wanted nothing more than to just let go; the pain from his shoulder seared like Mary had already set him on fire, and it wasn’t exactly helping that he was practically hanging off the carriage, putting all the wrong kinds of pressure and strain on the wound. Still, he fought as his legs threatened to give way under him. Arthur was still in danger, and if she set fire to the carriage they would all burn. He could not let go.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Faintly he noted that the king and princess had taken shelter on the floor of the carriage beside Arthur, and that Morgana was barking orders into a pocketcom. There was some noise that might have been coming from the crowd, but all of that seemed terribly far away compared to the very real and very penetrating pain from his shoulder.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“This is for my son!” Mary Collins yelled, and Merlin felt the fireball leave her hand, full of hatred and a desperate wish of vengeance.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He breathed out, slow and long, and guided the air above them towards the fireball in a heavy gust of wind. And then one more, letting it pick up as if a natural occurrence, simply pressure and underpressure trying to align, like they’d all learned in school. He couldn’t afford to open his eyes or to voice a spell, but he wanted to hit Mary Collins, and the magic was so eager to bend, so eager to please like it always was for him. The fireball had no real base, consisted of nothing but energy and magic and that, too, wanted to please him instead of Mary Collins, eagerly turning on its original master for the chance of obeying him. He heard a high-pitched scream of pain, and knew that the wind had blown the fireball onto her clothes. The influx of telepathy picked up again, but he was too disoriented to properly listen in, didn’t really care what they were saying as he fuelled the fire with oxygen, and breathed through the haze of pain clouding his mind. He dared not think of the blood he was losing.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Next came the heavy sound of boots on asphalt that finally announced the arrival of the knights, and he released his hold on the wind. It would blow for some time as it aligned the air pressure naturally, and give the gathered crowd some respite from the summer heat.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>His legs gave way under him, then, and it was only Arthur’s firm grip around his elbows that kept him from sagging to the ground completely. There was a hiss, a sound he’d probably made himself, and then Arthur somehow managed to hoist him up into the carriage, arranging him so he sat with his back against the seat, his head lolling back to rest on the padding.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Fuck,” Merlin said, out of breath and decidedly not caring that he’d just sworn in front of the king.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Arthur’s smile was soft but a bit strained as his eyes locked on all the blood dripping down Merlin’s shoulder. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” he said, quickly stripping off his fine jacket to press it against the wound.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yeah, I know,” Merlin grit out.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He wasn’t really aware of what happened after that, other than that there was some yelling and a lot of movement around him, but he supposed some time must have passed, because he woke up in the hospital to a smiling doctor who informed him that they had successfully removed the bullet and regenerated the wound and that he could be moved to the castle’s infirmary as soon as he was ready.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i></i>
  </i>
</p><div class="center">
  <p>-ll-</p>
</div>Merlin spent most of the following day in bed watching himself get shot on telly. Uther’s propaganda machine was once again rolling out, and whatever grand statement the Resistance had set out to make, was being completely turned against them. Mary Collins’ assassination attempt was used as a prime example of why magic was evil while Merlin had been dubbed a true hero by the press. Somewhere in Essetir, Nimueh was probably laughing her arse off.<p>Arthur came around sometime in the afternoon, after everyone else had already been to visit, announcing his presence with a gentle knock on the doorway and a, </p><p>“Hey, how are you feeling?” </p><p>“Kind of numb, actually,” Merlin answered, muting the telly as Arthur sauntered into the room. “The painkillers are quite effective.”</p><p>Arthur snorted, sitting down on the chair Gaius had left beside the bed. “I suppose that’s good to hear. That means you’ll be ready for the banquet tonight.”</p><p>“Banquet?”</p><p>“Yeah, the one that was supposed to be held yesterday as part of the anniversary festivities. Father moved it to today instead. We couldn’t quite go on with all that had happened, but neither do we want to show the terrorists that they’ve caused fear,” Arthur explained. “Besides, they’ve been working non-stop in the kitchens, and it would be a real shame to waste all the food. Even if some of it is going to be re-heated instead of fresh.”</p><p>“What a waste, indeed,” Merlin conceded. “I should ask Gaius or Gwaine to bring me some leftovers.”</p><p>Arthur arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t you hear me? You’re expected tonight. You took a bullet for the crown prince, after all.”</p><p>“Yes, I took a bullet. Which means I should be here. In bed. Resting.”</p><p>“I’ve read your medical report, you know,” Arthur said pointedly. “Your wound is fully regenerated. You should be able to sit down and eat for a few hours without collapsing. You’ve probably done nothing but sleep all day, anyway.”</p><p>“Seriously?” Merlin groaned, head rolling back into his pillows that were propped up so he could sit comfortably. “This is what I get for saving your life?”</p><p>“I do suppose I ought to say ‘thank you’ for that.”</p><p>“Yeah, you ought to.”</p><p>“Maybe later.” Arthur’s lips stretched into a smirk. “Perhaps if you show up to the banquet. Showered. Dressed in a suit. Possibly even with hair not resembling a haystack. Then I may be amenable.”</p><p>“I think I’ll live without your boundless gratitude, then,” Merlin said flatly, searching blindly for the remote controller with his hand. Perhaps if he turned the sound back on Arthur would get the message and leave Merlin to watch mindless soap operas.</p><p>“Merlin.” Arthur learned forward to clamp a hand down on Merlin’s uninjured shoulder, effectively stopping his search. “The king requires your attendance,” he said in a way that might have been humorous but was laced with a heavy layer of seriousness. “You don’t actually have a choice.”</p><p>Merlin took a deep breath through his nose and let it out in a resigned snort. “Okay then,” he said. “Since you’re asking so nicely and all.”</p><p>“Excellent,” Arthur said, far too smug for his own good, and removed his hand, before standing back up. “I’ll inform the king that you’ll be happy to attend, and Gaius that you’ll be needing supervision.”</p><p>He exited the room with a stern reminder that if Merlin didn’t show up, he’d come and get him himself.</p><p>Later Gaius came by to do a quick scan, hummed approvingly at the results, and announced that Merlin was ready for the banquet. He practically shoved him out of the bed and into the shower, although very careful of the newly regenerated area that was still red and sore and would be for the next few days. When Merlin was clean and relatively dry, Gaius was nice enough to wrap him up with bandages laced with healing gel to protect the tender flesh, so it wouldn’t catch on his shirt.</p><p>Reluctantly dressed in a suit and with hair somewhat styled to Gaius’ approval, Merlin made his way down to the banquet hall, closely followed by his great uncle who’d also crawled into formal attire.</p><p>The banquet hall was as richly decorated as Merlin had imagined, and as grand as any hall in Cenred’s castle. Large banners with the Pendragon crest were hanging from the ceiling and people were chatting to each other among the long tables that had been set out for the occasion. He wasn’t exactly aware of who’d been invited, but he spotted several knights in dress uniforms among the guests, along with members of parliament and other personages Merlin realised were important. There were also members of staff like Gaius and the head gardener. Merlin had actually been invited even before he’d taken a bullet, so he figured the event was primarily meant for people working in and around the castle complex.</p><p>He was about to follow Gaius over to where they were presumably to be seated, beside the head gardener and the castellan, when Arthur appeared by his side, once again wearing the golden circlet and formal prince attire. He greeted them both with a smile, and without much explanation cupped Merlin’s elbow and led him up to the head table, leaving Gaius to find his own seat.</p><p>To his utter astonishment Merlin found himself seated on Uther’s right side, the place of honour, with Morgana on Uther’s left and Arthur to Merlin’s right, now that Merlin had taken his usual seat.</p><p>The dinner was altogether pleasant, the staff had done magic in the kitchens, and Merlin found himself making small talk with Uther and his children. When the king remarked on his astounding table manners, Merlin was happy to inform him he’d attended boarding school and that led the conversation over to Uther’s own time running around in school uniform.</p><p>After the main course, just before dessert, Uther stood up, clinking his wine glass with a fork, and the banquet hall fell silent instantly. People turned their heads to look expectantly up at the king.</p><p>“I am sure there is not anyone here tonight unaware of what happened yesterday--” he started out, tone sombre and earnest, his voice filling the room even without a microphone. “--how the terrorist group that call themselves the Resistance attempted to take the life of your crown prince and my son, and once again reminded us why magic is a true evil we must fight at all costs. Fortunately, however, they did not succeed in their endeavour, thanks to the young man sitting beside me.” Uther clasped a hand down on Merlin’s shoulder, barely missing the sore, newly regenerated spot, and squeezed. His expression was warm and almost fatherly as he looked down at a baffled Merlin, before facing forwards again to continue his speech. “There are not many who would throw themselves in harm’s way to save the life of a prince of a country they do not even belong to. Nonetheless, Merlin here,” he said, and squeezed again, “originally a citizen of Essetir, selflessly protected my son despite the serious threat to his own life.</p><p>“In Camelot we have a special way of rewarding those who commit such heroic deeds,” Uther said and it was as if the whole hall took a deep breath and held it as the king once again turned to Merlin. “Merlin Emmerson, I am pleased to inform you that you’ve been granted entrance into knight’s training. May you continue to show us such bravery as a squire as you did yesterday.”</p><p>A collective roar rose from the knights, filling the banquet hall like a tidal wave that bounced off the walls and back again as everyone rose from their seats, clapping and clapping until that was the only thing Merlin could hear. Even Arthur and Morgana joined in, getting up to join the rest of the hall in their applause.</p><p>Merlin was left sitting in his chair, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into, while Arthur, when Merlin dared glance at him, looked incredibly smug and seemed to be mouthing the words, ‘You’re welcome.’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Meeting of Almost Like-Minded People</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“For the last time, Merlin, lean <i>back</i> in the saddle and sit up straight. Don’t just slump forward like a sack of potatoes, or else you’ll fall off, <i>again</i>.”</p><p>“I really don’t see why I have to learn how to ride a horse,” Merlin protested from atop his mount, an old, good-natured gelding called Wart that didn’t seem to mind Merlin desperately clinging to the saddle and was kind enough to slow down every time it seemed like he was about to fall off. Unfortunately, Wart also had a tendency to ignore Merlin’s commands, which was why Arthur kept him at the end of a lunging rein so he was forced to go around in a small, controllable circle and not spontaneously decide to supplement his dinner with grass from the side of the riding ground.</p><p>“You’re going to be a <i>knight</i>, Merlin,” Arthur reminded him pointedly. “It’s sort of implied. Not to mention that it’s tradition.” He clicked his tongue and gently prodded Wart in the rear with a long whip. “Now, let’s try canter one more time. Remember how to do that? Or do I need to tell you again?”</p><p>“No,” Merlin bit out through clenched teeth and refrained from coming out with the scathing remark hiding just behind his tongue, instead concentrating on leaning back and sitting down heavily in the saddle. When he felt somewhat in balance despite the uncomfortable bumps of sitting down in trot, he tried to get Wart into canter by putting one leg forward and one leg backwards and then pressing in as Arthur had instructed him to several times.</p><p>Nothing happened; Wart stayed in trot and Merlin bumped ungraciously along with him.</p><p>“<i>Mer</i>lin—”</p><p>“I’m trying,” Merlin said, frustrated at both Arthur and Wart who seemed perfectly content in trot despite how uncomfortable it must be to have an unbalanced Merlin on top. And how did putting your legs back and forth translate to canter in horse language anyway?</p><p>“Obviously not enough,” Arthur observed. “Don’t let the horse play tricks with you. You’re the rider, not a fancy decoration.”</p><p>“Yes, thank you for the reminder, Sire,” Merlin said sourly as he tried again, and maybe let just the tiniest bit of magic pass through his fingertips, through the saddle, and into Wart. He sped up into a canter and Merlin threw a victorious grin in Arthur’s general direction.</p><p>“Excellent, now try to <i>stay</i> in canter for more than five seconds.”</p><p>Merlin didn’t dignify that with an answer, and resolutely kept the pace for all of thirty seconds before Wart had had enough and decided on trot again.</p><p>“Merlin,” Arthur chided, exasperated. “Unless you explicitly give the order to slow down, you keep that horse in canter. Believe me when I say he knows all the tricks, so unless you assert yourself and show him you’re the one in charge, he’s going to keep playing games with you. Now, canter, again!” he demanded and swatted Wart’s rear with the whip so he jumped forward into a canter in surprise and nearly managed to throw Merlin off in the process.</p><p>He stayed on, however, and whether it was because Wart correctly assumed Arthur wouldn’t stop the lesson before he was satisfied, or because Merlin actually managed to assert himself, he kept the pace until Arthur allowed Merlin to slow him down.</p><p>By the end of Merlin’s riding lesson, when Wart was walking at a leisure pace around the edge of the riding ground, and Arthur had temporarily left to get his own stallion, Hengroen, Morgana and Leon showed up, leaning casually over the fence. They were both dressed in riding gear and had obviously either done some practice of their own or taken a trip around the nearby area. They waved when Merlin caught sight of them, and he lifted a greeting hand in reply which Wart decided was a cue to stop and nip at the grass growing around one of the fence poles.</p><p>Morgana laughed. “Having trouble, are you?”</p><p>“What do you think?” Merlin responded. “But it’s not like I can fault him, you know. I much prefer eating to exercise.”</p><p>“So do most people,” Morgana said, glancing towards the stables. “But you better get him off the grass. Arthur’s coming back.”</p><p>Merlin cursed, kicking Wart’s flanks and pulling on the reins to get him back on track. But it was futile, Arthur had already seen.</p><p>“Really, Merlin?” Arthur commented as he led Hengroen into the riding ground. “Can’t I leave you alone for five minutes?”</p><p>“Apparently not,” Merlin said without much heat, relieved that the lesson was finally over, and steered Wart into the middle beside Arthur and got off as Arthur adjusted the girth on Hengroen’s saddle.</p><p>“You’ll never learn to ride that way.”</p><p>“Nope,” Merlin responded. “So you might as well just give up teaching me now.”</p><p>Arthur shook his head as he got in the saddle. “You’re not let off that easily, Merlin. Sorry to disappoint you.”</p><p>“It was worth a shot.”</p><p>Arthur snorted, spurring Hengroen on to a walk to start warming up. “Get Morris to help you rub down. I’m not sure I trust you unsupervised in the stables.”</p><p>“Of course, Sire,” Merlin said and there might have been a little bit of sarcasm in his tone, but Arthur merely chuckled, and let Merlin lead Wart to the stables without further comment.</p><p>Morris, the guy who usually took care of Arthur’s and Morgana’s horses and trained them when their duties were in their way, was already waiting, having just made Hengroen ready, and chatted with Merlin as they rubbed Wart down together. He laughed at Merlin’s complaints and told him it would come with practice. And possibly not with an old horse who was too used to beginners and generally knew how to avoid exerting himself.</p><p>By the time Merlin joined Morgana and Leon by the fence, Arthur appeared to be going through some complicated dressage programme, guiding Hengroen around the riding ground seemingly without any effort at all. Morgana and Leon were commenting on his technique, sometimes calling out advice, sometimes praising a particular move. And although Merlin didn’t have any experience nor proper knowledge on which to form an opinion, he knew Arthur was an expert equestrian. He was made to sit on top of a horse. Once, over a pint at The Rising Sun, Arthur had confided in Merlin that he’d have liked to be a professional had he not been a prince. But a prince he was, the heir to the throne and head knight on top of that; his future path was already set out for him, but at least he liked to still practice when he had the time, and in stark contrast to Wart, so did Hengroen.</p><p>Morgana, too, was fond of horse riding, although she preferred show jumping to dressage, and how she managed to stay on and execute a jump perfectly was another mystery entirely. Merlin, at least, was only going to learn how to ride because tradition dictated it, so that in the future, once he was a knight, he could participate in the parades alongside the others. If he ever stayed in Camelot that long, of course.</p><p>Though there had never been a time schedule for Merlin’s stay in Camelot, never a set date for when he would return to Essetir, their plans had changed considerably now he was a knight-in-training, a so-called squire. While Nimueh, as predicated, had had a good laugh at his expense once he’d told the Opposition leaders of his acceptance into knight’s training, Elyan had grinned for another reason entirely.</p><p>“This is perfect,” he’d crowed. “They’re going to train their own worst enemy, and they don’t even have the faintest idea.” Then, after he’d shared a laugh with Nimueh, he’d continued on a much more serious note, “I know how hard that training is, Emrys, especially for someone as… well, not-athletic as you, but you <i>must</i> endure it. You magic users’ biggest weakness is your inherent lack of physical strength. This will limit that weakness considerably.”</p><p>In addition, Morgause, who was one of the few magic users also adept in physical combat, had nodded and said, “I do not think this is a coincidence.” A small smug smile had been playing at her lips as she continued, “In fact I think this is the fates dealing us a winning hand.”</p><p>Nimueh and Elyan had agreed with her, and so it had been decided that Merlin was to continue with knight’s training until further notice. It didn’t necessarily mean he had to like it, though.</p><p>For the first few weeks, after Merlin had saved Arthur’s life, he’d walked around with permanently sore muscles and fallen into his bed each night completely exhausted and barely sentient. Gone were the lazy days spent reading in the gardens or wandering the city aimlessly just to observe people, and in their place knight’s training had completely taken over his time. Not even a simple thing such as what he put in his mouth was his own choice anymore. Instead, some kind of dietary expert had put together a diet for Merlin to follow to make sure his body stayed sustained enough to keep up with the change his physique was undergoing.</p><p>And his body <i>was</i> changing. After long hours in the gym, he’d discovered muscles he didn’t even know he had, and some of them had even begun to show, though he was still quite lanky. He’d taken to prodding at his new muscles from time to time, just to assure himself that he was getting somewhere, that all the relentless training was indeed paying off – especially on those days where it seemed like he was making no progress at all.</p><p>Embarrassingly enough, Arthur had caught him in the act one time, right after a shower at the gym in front of the wall mirror, but aside from a barely contained smirk, he’d thankfully refrained from commenting.</p><p>Being a squire was not only physical training day in and day out, though Merlin sometimes had his doubts. On the so-called resting days where his body was supposed to rebuild strength and muscle, he was introduced to all the other parts of a knight’s job. Mostly, they were specialised in neutralising threats to the national security such as the Resistance and magic users in general, while the regular police force took care of the common criminals like thieves and robbers, although they collaborated when the case demanded it. It meant that he had to learn the law by heart and how to properly apply it in real situations: when to make an arrest and when to await further investigation. He also spent a lot of time at the shooting range, but as Morgause had already made sure he knew how to handle a large range of weapons, that was one of his best subjects, whereas self-defence was his worst. The little training he’d received in Essetir was nothing compared to the skill of the knights, who apparently had no reservations about wiping the floor with Merlin without breaking a sweat.</p><p>And when he wasn’t spending countless hours in the gym trying to mould some strength out of his wiry frame, or shooting bullets in a paper man, or being used as a particularly handsome broom, he found himself on top of Wart, exasperating himself half to death.</p><p>Naturally, it meant there wasn’t much time left of his day to teach Morgana magic, but as she’d already progressed impressively in the short time he’d been in Camelot, he wasn’t worried about her losing control anytime soon. An incident such as the fire in her room would hardly occur again now she knew how to properly channel the energy in her body. She still had visions, but so far none of them had resulted in much more than what could be expected after waking up from a nightmare.</p><p>The sound of three pocket coms going off at the same time startled him out of his thoughts. Beside him, Morgana and Leon were fishing out theirs from their pockets to silence the alert, while Arthur let his go off, continuing his programme as unaffected as Hengroen who was too trained to take much notice of the shrill sound.</p><p>“Sabotage at the Surveillance Centre,” Leon announced aloud after he’d read the message. “One of the server rooms.”</p><p>“Typical,” Arthur said, still not making any moves to slow down or to silence his com. “On my bloody day off.”</p><p>It wasn’t that Arthur would usually throw everything in his hands to go take care of whatever the Resistance had managed to sabotage, but Merlin knew that a hit at the Surveillance Centre was a bigger deal than usual. The centre was where all information gathered by the various cams , face-tracers, scanners, and so on were stored and searched for illegal activities, and while he didn’t doubt they had back-up, he also knew that this was a serious attack. The security at the place was supposed to be as tight as at the castle complex. That someone had managed to strike against the centre meant that Arthur’s presence as head knight would be required, and so would Leon’s and Morgana’s, since they were the next in the line of command.</p><p>“You can stay here and finish off,” Morgana offered. “The others are already engaged at the scene and Sir Leon and I will head over there now. Nobody will care if you arrive in an hour or so.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Arthur said, smiling gratefully as he and Hengroen passed her.</p><p>Morgana turned to Leon and Merlin next. “Well, shall we?” She gestured towards the parking lot. “If we want to have a change of clothes first, we should hurry.”</p><p>Merlin groaned, but was about to follow nevertheless when Arthur casually interjected. “Merlin can go back with me. He won’t be much use anyway.”</p><p>Morgana didn’t answer right away, instead watching Arthur for a moment before she eventually shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. Come on, then, Sir Leon.”</p><p>“Yes, your Highness,” Leon said and followed Morgana to the cars.</p><p>Merlin stared after them, half-wondering if Arthur and Morgana had just had a telepathic conversation, or if that was merely a sibling-thing; thus, he didn’t miss the way Leon halfway to the parking lot casually rested a hand on the small of Morgana’s back. He expected her to brush him off, but was utterly astonished to see that she didn’t react at all. Instead, she let it rest there as if she hadn’t noticed it at all, is if it was a normal occurrence. Stunned, Merlin turned back to see the pointed look Arthur sent him.</p><p>“Are they — are they together?” Merlin asked in wonder. It would somewhat explain why Arthur had gotten Merlin to stay behind.</p><p>“No.” Arthur shook his head slightly, slowing Hengroen down to a walk. “But I know Leon’s interested as he has this ridiculous notion that I have any say whatsoever in who Morgana courts, and has asked me if I was okay with it. Morgana’s a bit more difficult to gauge. Usually we tell each other everything, but she’s been annoyingly vague on this subject. She’s never said outright that she likes him, and she doesn’t exactly encourage his feelings, but she doesn’t brush them off either as you can see.” He indicated his head towards the way Morgana and Leon had gone. In the distance, Leon opened to door to the passenger seat to let Morgan get in. “They usually ride together at least once a week.”</p><p>“Sounds complicated,” Merlin commented, though he thought he knew why Morgana was holding herself back. And magic was a really big part of it.</p><p>“It is,” Arthur agreed. “Personally I think she might be wary of what our father is going to say, but then again,unlike me, her future spouse hasn’t been picked out for her years in advance. And even if that were the case, I’m sure our fahter wouldn’t mind shackling the two of them together instead. Leon’s from a long line of nobles. While not exactly of royal blood, he’d be more than agreeable I’d think. But if Morgana doesn’t want to take it further, then I’m not going to interfere.”</p><p>Merlin shrugged in response. That was also a legitimate reason, although he’d place his bets on magic being the biggest hurdle in the way of a possible relationship. Briefly, he wondered why Morgana hadn’t told him of the situation with Leon, but then again, it wasn’t necessarily his business whom she liked. He certainly hadn’t told her every time he’d pulled someone here in Camelot, nor would he give a full report if any of these liaisons should ever extend beyond more than one night.</p><p>After Hengroen had finished cooling down, Merlin helped Arthur rub him down before they went back to the knight’s headquarters for a very brief shower in the locker room so they wouldn’t reek of horse. They also changed into uniforms for some semblance of professionalism. The squires had their own uniform, which was basically just a completely black version of the knights’ with the Pendragon crest a dark red instead of the usual gold.</p><p>When they finally arrived at the surveillance centre, knights and technicians were already in full swing with the investigation, bustling around to take samples from the remains of the servers that had been damaged. Merlin could see Leon taking a statement from a clearly shocked employee, while Morgana and Gwen were busy talking to one of the technicians. Arthur went to join them and Merlin followed without a word. As a squire he wasn’t much use, but it was part of his training to shadow the knights as they went about their daily duties and that included being present at crime scenes and throughout the entire investigation.</p><p>The technician explained that at least three servers had been damaged by some kind of explosion and they were still searching for its origins. At the moment they were working with the theory that it was magical, but the Resistance also had their fair share of non-magic users at their disposal, so regular explosives could not be ruled out until they’d had more time to gather evidence. They were also searching for any other possible traces like hair, fibres from clothes, and fingerprints not belonging to the centre’s employees. So far, they hadn’t found anything out of place, but they were still looking, the technician assured Arthur, after he’d furrowed his brows in discontentment.</p><p>Afterwards, one of the other knights hailed Arthur and Morgana while Gwen left to call Lancelot who wasn’t working that day, and Merlin was left to himself. The sabotage at the surveillance centre wasn’t the first one he’d experienced, however, and by now he had some idea of how the knights operated, so he drifted a bit from place to place to observe how things were going. He inspected the remains of the still smoking servers, careful not to be in the way of the protection-suit-covered technicians, and he got updates from what the other knights had found out, and generally did his very best to not disturb anyone too much.</p><p>Coincidentally it also only took him about ten minutes to make a very educated guess as to whom was responsible for the sabotage. Though in the knights’ defence none of them would be able to recognise a symbol of the old religion, and Merlin probably wouldn’t have noticed it if the police officer in question hadn’t introduced himself when Merlin came to hear what statements he’d gotten from any possible witnesses.</p><p>“So you’re the newest squire, hm?” the police officer said as he shook Merlin’s hand. “I’m Gilli.”</p><p>“That I am,” Merlin said, eye briefly flickering to the ring on the police officer’s finger before he looked back up. “I’m Merlin.”</p><p>“I suppose you want to hear what I’ve gathered so far,” Gilli said, and when Merlin answered in the affirmative, began tapping away at the tablet in his hand as he proceeded with a quick update on what he had gathered from witnesses so far.</p><p>Merlin took the opportunity to let his eyes fall back on Gilli’s ring to assure himself that he hadn’t imagined the symbol from the old religion on it. He spent a brief moment in despair of the Resistance’s lack of subtlety, when he confirmed that yes, that was a magical ring right there, and wondered how the Resistance had ever managed to stay in business with idiots like this one as their members.</p><p>“It’s a nice ring you have there,” he said conversationally, once there was a lull in Gilli’s speech. “I didn’t know you were allowed to wear jewellery in the police force. We certainly aren’t.”</p><p>Gilli’s eyes widened in surprise before they flicked down to the ring on his finger, his other hand unintentionally reaching over to fiddle with it. “It was my father’s.”</p><p>“It’s beautiful,” Merlin commented, and he even sounded sincere to his own ears. ‘<i>But you should be careful of who sees it and recognises it for what it is.</i>’ He caught Gilli’s eyes and arched a pointed eyebrow.</p><p>Gilli stiffened for a short second, but was quick enough to recover; Merlin had to give him that. ‘<i>I wasn’t informed there were members to be stationed in the knights.</i>’</p><p>‘<i>There aren’t. I came here from Essetir,</i>’ Merlin answered and let the meaning sink in.</p><p>Gilli’s sheer outburst of astonishment could almost be heard out loud. ‘<i>You’re from the Opposition?!</i>’</p><p>‘<i>You guessed it.</i>’</p><p>‘<i>But you — you saved the crown prince’s life!</i>’</p><p>‘<i>Yeah.</i>’</p><p>‘<i>But why?! He’s the enemy!</i>’</p><p>Merlin barely refrained from rolling his eyes. ‘Surely, you of all people should know that I can’t tell you that.’</p><p>‘<i>Of course not.</i>’ Gilli agreed.‘<i>But forgive me for being a bit confused at why you’d willingly save the life of Uther’s son. Surely the Opposition’s goals don’t differ that much from ours.</i>’</p><p>Merlin knew he didn’t imagine the reproach Gilli sent his way. He couldn’t make himself care, though, and simply answered with, ‘<i>We in the Opposition have our ways of doing things, and you have yours. But speaking of – just because I’m curious—</i>’ Merlin nodded in the direction of the destroyed servers ‘<i>—was it you who did it?</i>’</p><p>They both knew a secrecy spell prevented Gilli from giving a clear answer, but Merlin didn’t need one. Gilli smiled proudly, and Merlin could feel the smugness through their brief mental link.</p><p>Merlin smiled back. ‘<i>Just be careful.</i>’</p><p>Gilli snorted.‘<i>I don’t need somebody like you to tell me that. Trust me when I say I know how to cover my tracks.</i>’ His eyes flickered up to settle on a spot in the distance behind Merlin. ‘<i>It looks like we’ll have to cut our conversation short. His highness is coming over here.</i>’</p><p>Merlin turned around to see Arthur making his way towards them. “Well it was nice to meet you, Gilli,” Merlin said aloud as he turned back around, a conversational smile in place. “I suppose we’ll run into each other again.”</p><p>“It’s likely,” Gilli agreed, smiling back before he excused himself with a slight bow to Arthur and left.</p><p>“Making new friends, are we?” Arthur asked, as he came to stand in front of Merlin, eyebrow raised.</p><p>“Well, you seemed busy,” Merlin said. “No, actually I was just getting an update on witness reports. You know, keeping myself up-to-date and such.”</p><p>Arthur’s eyebrow stayed raised. “Learn anything useful then? Or did you just dawdle as usual?”</p><p>Merlin was half-tempted to roll his eyes but decided Arthur wasn’t worth it, and instead relayed what Gilli had shown him on the tablet.</p><p>Hours later, he found himself back at HQ, observing through a two-way mirror as Leon placed a vial of truth serum on the table in front of a very scared girl inside the interrogation room and said,</p><p>“You can drink it willingly or I can force it down your throat. Your choice.”</p><p>The girl, who was hardly more than 18 years old, looked up at Leon with red-rimmed eyes and trembling lips. Magic-blocking handcuffs bound her hands, although she had yet to exhibit magical abilities, and they shook as she picked up the vial and downed the liquid inside in one go before placing it back on the table.</p><p>She hid her folded hands in her lap, somewhat concealing the shaking, but fear was still coming off her in waves. Merlin could understand her trepidation, or at least he could guess as to the nature of it. The knights’ reputation preceded them, and while the girl in theory had nothing to fear as Gilli was the saboteur, it seemed the general population of Camelot was terrified of them. Perhaps a trace of the early days of the Purge where no one had considered themselves safe from being brought in.</p><p>Leon didn’t speak to begin with. Instead, he inspected the tablet in front him for a minute, going through the basic details he would need for the interrogation while the truth serum started working. After a few minutes, he picked up the scanner beside him to scan the girl to ascertain the truth serum was in effect.</p><p>“What’s your name?” Leon asked first, as was standard procedure.</p><p>“Alicia Miller,” the serum compelled her to answer, though Merlin reckoned she’d probably have answered that anyway.</p><p>“And what is your function at the centre?”</p><p>“I’m just an intern,” she said, voice quivering. “Oh please, Sir Knight, I—” Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by her eyes turning golden as whatever secrecy spell had been placed on her withheld her from continuing that sentence.</p><p>Beside Merlin, Arthur’s brows furrowed deeply, the corners of his lips turning downward, and a look around the observation room told Merlin the other knights with them bore similar expressions. Merlin kept his face blank but could not prevent the narrowing of his eyes. Were the Resistance really using minors to execute their useless sabotages? Children hardly able to give consent? Or had Gilli set her up to take the blame? A tingle that felt suspiciously like resentment made its way down Merlin’s spine.</p><p>Inside the interrogation room, Leon’s mask hadn’t wavered. “Where were you at the time of the explosion?” he asked.</p><p>“I was—” Again, golden eyes interrupted. The girl’s lips kept moving for a second with unspoken words, before tears started flowing from her eyes. “No!” she cried. “I swear I— Oh please!”</p><p>“Please relax, Ms. Miller,” Leon said, unaffected by her outburst. “This will be much easier if you remain calm.”</p><p>“No, but it—” She stopped, took a deep sniffling breath as if she could barely breathe through her tears and the glowing of her eyes which faded back into brown. “It—” The gold flared up once more. “I don’t know what I can answer,” she ground out in obvious frustration and horror. “I can’t— Oh, god, please no, I—”</p><p>By the end of the interrogation, they hadn’t gotten much more than a name out of her. She’d continued crying every time the spell had refused her to answer, and at one point Percival, who’d also been present in the room, had gone to fetch her some napkins to wipe her nose. Leon had remained the epitome of calm, though the increasing tightness in his shoulders told a different story.</p><p>The next person, an elderly lady with her grey hair in a tight bun, didn’t fare much better, although she didn’t cry every time her eyes glowed golden as she tried to answer Leon’s questions. Instead, she clenched her jaw, remained as calm as she could and looked as if she tried to work around the heavy restrictions on her speech. She didn’t succeed.</p><p>Next was a middle-aged man who wasn’t quite as hysterical as the first suspect, when he discovered he couldn’t say anything, but it was damn close.</p><p>And so it continued for hours while Merlin continued to grow more and more confused. None of the interrogated could answer much more than their name and function at the centre before their eyes would glow a tell-tale golden, and Merlin began to wonder what Gilli had meant about covering his tracks. Whatever it was, it was brilliant.</p><p>Arthur answered his unspoken question when Leon’s shoulders had become so stiff Merlin doubted they would ever relax again. “I don’t believe this has happened while you’ve been here, Merlin. But what you’re seeing right now is what we call a smokescreen. It means that the true terrorist has somehow managed to put modified secrecy spells on a lot of innocent people, making them unable to answer most of our questions, as you can see.” He gestured to the two-way mirror, to the man who was trying to stay calm despite the obvious horror spreading across his features as he discovered his inability to answer. “It has effectively rendered the truth serum absolutely useless.”</p><p>“So what happens now?” Merlin asked, careful to keep his tone as neutral as possible so Arthur wouldn’t pick up on the smug satisfaction he felt on Gilli’s behalf – how impressed he was by Gilli’s proficiency. It would have taken a considerable amount of time to place so many secrecy spells undetected, and would have taken even longer to plan. Merlin found it hard to be terribly bothered by the tactic. Yes, it was a frightening experience for the innocents affected by it, who would have to endure interrogation by the knights, but it was the price to be paid for Gilli to remain undetected and safe.</p><p>“The technicians take over,” Arthur said, jaw clenching. “If the terrorist has left even the tiniest trace, we’re going to find them.”</p><p>“And if they haven’t?” Merlin prodded. If Gilli had used magic there was a good chance the usual investigation methods wouldn’t work.</p><p>“Then we’re going to have to redistribute all the suspects. We can’t very well condemn them all to death just on the off chance that we might catch the terrorist, but neither can we let them continue to work at the sSurveillance Centre, so they’ll all be dismissed. And they’re banned from ever working in the security sector again. We can’t have a member of the Resistance in such a precarious position.”</p><p>Merlin nodded in understanding, but didn’t speak more on the matter. He would have to applaud Gilli the next time he saw him. With so many of the employees under extensive secrecy spells, the knights likely wouldn’t think to look outside the group of current suspects and certainly not to suspect a random police officer. He did wonder exactly how Gilli had managed to execute the sabotage, but he supposed the Resistance was allowed their trade secrets just as the Opposition was allowed theirs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please tell me what you think :)</p><p>You can btw find me on tumblr <a href="http://elveatas.tumblr.com/">here</a><br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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